Gothams Dynasty
by Alaura Nova Shadowmane
Summary: In the Dark Ages of Gotham, a young heir to the throne suffers a horrendous loss that shakes the foundations of his kingdom. Evil and corrupt forces threaten the prince's home. With the help of a princess from across the sea, can he rise to become the knight and leader his people need?
1. Chapter 1

**Gotham's Dynasty**

**Batman created by Bob Kane**

**All related characters created by DC Comics**

* * *

Prologue

Throughout time Gotham was once a prosperous kingdom. Generations of families were built on the foundations of hard work and trust. Over the years this great land became covered with darkness and corruption. Good people became victims of bloodshed and injustice.

There had been a great war going on for a long time. It permeated each corner of the kingdom. A battle of good and evil, order and chaos, justice and injustice that forced the people of this land to cower in fear. In the midst of this dark tempest, a hope - a dynasty - thrived at the center of the realm: the Wayne Family.

Time had passed as the bitterness of winter came to the land. The king had fallen from a fatal illness and the prince, his only son Thomas, became the preserver of the throne when he married Lady Martha, a woman of wealth and compassion. Together they ruled this fair land and returned hope back to the streets of Gotham.

King Thomas and Queen Martha gave the people hope by standing for justice and truth while combating poverty and oppression from outside forces. Each day was a continued battle to ensure the poor were given food and shelter, the lost were given direction and the peace was maintained with their neighbors. As a reward they were blessed with a baby boy. A young prince whom they named Bruce.

The young heir that would change the course of this land.

Fate had a different idea...

Queen Martha looked at the infant in her arms. Joy shone on her face as her green eyes narrowed down to look at her healthy baby boy. The good king stood by her bedside with adoring eyes as he moved closer and touched his son with a warm hand.

"My son." He said in a proud whisper. "My Bruce."

The queen smiled as her husband kissed her on the forehead with a loving caress. They had been in their bedroom chambers since the early night before when the birthing pains had begun and they had clung to the other for strength ever since. Even still Martha felt the birth would have been far more difficult if not the other people in the room.

At the door stood the king and queen's most trusted servant and loyal friend: Sir Alfred Pennyworth. A kind and remarkable man who had seen over 20 years of combat as a Gotham Knight and now close to his 50th name day, he had chosen to live a quiet life of advisement and servitude.

Beside Alfred stood Madam Leslie Tompkins. Another close friend of their growing family who had taken the role of midwife during the birth. Despite having dismissed her handmaidens to allow she and her husband privacy, Martha had insisted Alfred and Leslie remain to see their newborn son before the entire kingdom would.

It was her hope and her belief that they would play an important role in her son's life and they deserved to be here to see him.

"Your Highness, he is so beautiful," Madam Leslie said with an endearing smile.

"Thank you Leslie. And please, you need not be formal with me, not when we are in private. We are friends." Martha insisted.

"Aye. A bond I am fortunate to have shared with you after so many years."

Martha reached and took Leslie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "My son and I live and we are healthy because of you. It is I that is fortunate."

Leslie said nothing but gave her friend a warm smile of appreciation. King Thomas who had been silently observing his son this entire time with adoration looked up and saw Alfred still standing at the door attentively.

"My friend, don't you wish to see our son?"

Alfred who had been standing with the silent and ready stance of a soldier, regarded his king with a modest smile.

"I don't wish to impose sire."

Thomas shook his head. "Nonsense. You will play an important part of our son's life just as you have in his birth. My wife and I would have it no other way."

Thomas looked at Martha for assurance. The Queen nodded with a smile in their servant's direction. Alfred felt humbled by his king's words and the level of sincerity in them. He had come to this country as a stranger over 30 years ago. A doctor from England. Perhaps it wasn't by chance that one of the first patients he received when he arrived was Thomas' father.

Despite his best efforts and the efforts of many other physicians they had been unable to save the previous king. Thomas had been understanding and well grateful of their efforts. It was during that time that Alfred had been the one thing to Thomas that the king had needed most: a friend.

Their friendship, however its longevity, maintained a formal respect especially on Alfred's part as he decided to join the ranks of the Gotham Knights in defense of his new home. Even now, that respect remained and Alfred felt grateful that one of his oldest friends was welcoming him into his family.

"Aye, sire. It would be my honor."

He responded finally as he made his way to the bedside to stand next to the king and behold their future leader. Gazing down into the sleeping child's exposed face, Alfred felt a sense of protectiveness come over him.

The child looked so peaceful, so innocent and carefree. He knew the day would come when the responsibility of an entire kingdom would fall on the boy's shoulders and God willing, Alfred would be there to keep him on his feet and guide him when it did.

Bruce shifted in his mother's embrace and his eyelids opened for a moment.

"He has your eyes my lady." Alfred said towards the queen.

Martha nodded with a proud look as she caressed her son's face.

"And his father's hair." She added before she put a ponderous finger to her chin, "His good looks must come from me as well"

The room erupts in a fit of laughter. Thomas puts a hand to his chest, pretending to be insulted. "You wound me my dear."

As the family and friends basked in their warm company, Alfred and Leslie had then taken their leave afterward to allow Martha the rest she needed. King Thomas lifted Bruce in his arms and moved to the window as the sun was rising. He saw the river off in the distance.

Thomas knew that out there, in what he liked to believe was his peaceful realm, people were suffering and enduring hard times. What the people needed was a hope for a better future. The Wayne Family was a family of immense wealth and his marriage with Martha's family had only increased their worth.

The king used his own riches to provide for the poor and help the unemployed but that didn't seem to be enough. Gazing at his newborn son, Thomas felt compelled not to just give his son a better future, but his kingdom as well. He would raise Bruce with the strength and humility that a true leader would need with the fates of so many depending on him.

"This is your kingdom my son. Our legacy that we must guard well in our hearts." He whispered.

Outside in the stable grounds, the Captain of the King's Guard, Eric was saying goodbye to his only daughter Jillana, a noble maiden that lived in the castle as a handmaiden for the Queen. Eric placed his armored hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Why can't I go with you father?" She asked, craving for adventure. "I can withstand the elements of the travels that you endure."

"Your place is needed with the queen and the prince." He urged.

"I don't want to protect the prince. Please father let me come with you."

Eric looked into his daughter's eyes with his sincere steel blue eyes. He did not want to leave his only child but his duty was to the king and to his homeland. Each day crime threatened as well as outside forces and he would defend both his daughter and his home with his life. Proclaiming such a thing would not placate his daughter he knew.

He believed in King Thomas' rule. He was an honorable and compassionate man who did his best to ensure his people were well cared for and heard. Eric had hope that the king's newborn son would grow up to be the same but he would need to be protected and looked after.

He did not doubt the capabilities of the men under his command, but he felt better knowing that his daughter remained in the safety of the palace where she may help protect their future leader.

"Protect the prince my Jillana." He said as he kissed his young 17 year old daughter on the forehead. "I ride for the east." He lifted himself onto his horse's saddle and took one last glance as his daughter. She gazed back at him dismally as she would each time he would go out on patrol duty.

"Promise me that you will keep that prince safe." He urged again.

Jillana was trying to hold back her tears. "I promise father."

Eric gave his daughter a pleased nod and rode off to battle with a kick to the sides of his horse.

Jillana stood watching after him.

"Goodbye father." She wiped the tears from her eyes.

She looked at the one of the towers of the castle where she believed the royal chambers resided.

"I promise," she said firmly.

* * *

Chapter 1

Eight years later...

In the courtyard of the castle grounds, the young eight-year old Prince Bruce was playing with his childhood friend, a nurse maid's daughter named Rachel. Both of them were pretending to be explorers of a new country. Being the Prince of Gotham, Bruce had been given the best tutors and scholars his mother and father could provide.

For a boy his age who preferred only the freedom of running, scaling the castle walls and exploring what laid beyond his home, Bruce often felt trapped and was certain he would've died from boredom a long time ago if he didn't have his friend Rachel to keep him company. Like himself, Rachel often found herself alone when their parents' duties forced them from their sides.

Right now the king and queen were off touring the city with an ambassador from England and Bruce had been more than happy to stay behind with his friend rather than travel with his parents and listen to politics.

"I think I'll claim this land as my own!" Rachel said from her position near a fountain at the center of the yard.

"I don't think you have enough coin to manage that," Bruce said with a laugh as Rachel chased him around the fountain.

Unknown to both youths there was something in the shadows watching them, gleaming with deceitful eyes as they looked at the prince.

A younger nurse maid, Jillana walked into the courtyard and looked at the children playing. She addressed the child. "Young Prince," that was the title that most of the servants addressed the eight year old with. Bruce turned his head and looked at the maid. "Your father wants to speak with you."

Bruce sunk his body behind the fountain with Rachel at his side. The sunlight was fading through the clouds as Bruce waited for his nurse maid to attend back to her duties. Jillana walked up the stone steps ready to head back inside. Bruce stepped away from the fountain and looked at Rachel.

"Quickly before she sees us!" He winked and took off running out of the courtyard. Rachel looked back towards the nurse maid then immediately set off after Bruce.

Once Jillana had the sense Bruce wasn't following her, a cold chill ran down her spine. Some would call it paranoia, others a silly superstition, but Jillana since she was a young girl had developed a sense of foreboding, of an imminent threat to occur.

It was the same feeling she carried when her father rode out that morning, making her swear to protect the new prince. She could feel it now. A sense that evil was lurking around and ready to make it's move.

Her duty was to protect the prince with her life. That was the vow she made on the day he came into the world. "No," she thought, knowing that the ruthless monster had escaped from the underground prison that he was cursed to dwell in forever.

"Bruce," Rachel called out, standing near the rose bushes.

Bruce was crouched down behind a row of bushes. He was silent and looked at Rachel's feet through the branches in front of his hiding place and started to laugh.

Rachel smiled and crawled through the passage of the bushes laughing. She touched Bruce's knee. "I will give you a head start." She counted to ten. Bruce arose and then ran out of the garden, heading beyond the courtyard into an opened area behind the castle.

The guards that patrolled this area weren't on duty it seemed as the area was left open and unguarded.

"You can't catch me!" He dared, heading further.

Rachel smiled. "Yes I can Bruce."

The wind was blowing heavily through the trees meaning that fall was in the air. This was his favorite season. Leaves were dancing in the wind, falling to the ground as Bruce climbed onto a covered well full of vines.

Rachel ran out after him. "Bruce!" She called out.

Jillana ran into the empty courtyard with panic in her blue eyes. "Young prince, Rachel where are you!?"

She heard the sound of laughter coming from the shadows behind a wall. Her heart raced, fearing that the heir to the throne was in danger. Alfred came out looking at her. "Jillana, where is the prince? The king wants to speak with him."

Jillana looked onward into the grassy area away from the castle grounds. "Out there."

Alfred's eyes widened while behind him two guards came into the courtyard ready to resume their post. Alfred and Jilanna look between themselves and the guards frantically.

"Sir and lady?" One of the guards, Andrew asked.

"The Prince has ventured past the courtyard." Alfred informed him with a displeased look.

The guards paled and immediately nodded their heads in deference. "Apologies, we shall fetch him at once."

"I will take care of that. The two of you should just resume your post." Jillana said knowing the sight of the guards would only incite Bruce to further conceal himself to avoid being caught and reprimanded.

"The young prince can't be out there. It's dangerous." Alfred urged.

"I will bring him back. Do not worry my friend."

She ran out from the courtyard in a fast sprint with the guards following not too far behind.

Rachel was creeping up behind Bruce ready to pounce on him. Bruce heard footsteps in the pile of leaves. He smirked and then ducked as Rachel fell to the ground.

He arose onto the well. "Serves you right for trying to jump on a prince."

Rachel laughed and then she spotted something on the ground. An arrowhead shaped rock. She picked it up and wiped the dirt off the stone. Bruce looked down and noticed that his friend was holding something. "Rachel let me see," he demanded. Rachel closed her hand and teased him.

Bruce jumped down from the well. "Rachel."

"Finders keepers and I found it."

Bruce gave her a sly expression. "In my garden." He grabbed the rock and jumped off the well. Bruce took no more than two steps away when he felt a cold shadow come over him. He froze in his steps as his eyes took in the light disappearing from the ground in front of him as though a heavy cloud in the sky blocked the rays of the sun.

A dark figure entered his sight wearing a long hooded cloak. Not only did it appear all light had vanished in this figure's wake, but the noise in the air had turned deathly silent. Behind Bruce, his friend Rachel had also took notice of the looming shape and all traces of fun and amusement vanished from her face at the ominous sight in front of them.

It stood tall, past 6 feet and with its hood drawn up, casting his features in shadow. They could only make out a stubble chin. He wears a medallion in the shape of a crescent moon around his neck. Bruce took a cautious step back as the mysterious man's mouth formed into a sinister grin.

He chuckled looking at the young prince. "Hello there boy." He hissed.

His voice was deep and his tone was predatory like a hunter who had just found his game.

Bruce's face became pale. Despite his age, he knew and could recognize every face he came across around the castle and he knew for certain that this man was a stranger. An armed stranger. Bruce took notice of the very large sword sheathed beneath his cloak.

"Who are you... Why are you here?" Bruce asked with an innocent, frightened tone.

The man took a slow step forward, prompting both Rachel and Bruce to take a step back. He sniffed the air and smirked. "I smell fear on you boy."

"Bruce?" Rachel asked fearfully.

"Stay behind me," He said bravely, despite his own trepidation. Right now both of them were too scared to even run. The shape continued stalking them until they are backed against the well.

"Tell me boy, what do you fear?" He bared his teeth with a hiss.

It was then that Bruce noticed the two dead shapes laying in the shrub behind where the figure had stood in front of. Two of the patrol guards that would stand watch outside the garden laid in a crimson mess with stab wounds.

"Bruce!" Rachel cries after noticing the corpses.

"Go, run Rachel!" Bruce pushed her urgently.

Rachel rushed back to the castle without looking back while Bruce had climbed back onto the well to get passed it. The man laughed at their reaction as he moved to follow them in taunting pursuit. He could smell their fear, he relished it.

"If you touch the prince..." A growling voice from behind spoke as the figure felt a sword touch the back of his neck. He paused in his steps at the warning, "I will show you no mercy."

Hearing that familiar voice, Bruce turned around and was astonished to see Jillana had come to his rescue. Before he could say anything he heard a sound underneath his feet as the boards covering the well snapped and he fell deep into the dark abyss.

"Bruce!" Jillana screamed as she raced to the well and looked at the young eight year old laying at the bottom of it. Dread and panic filled her as she feared the worst until she saw him stir and groan in pain, holding his wrist. "Hold on young prince."

Jillana turned with her sword aimed at the figure who laughed and with a throw of his cloak, he disappeared.

Bruce looked at the sharp-edged rocks surrounding him at the bottom of the well. For a moment he believed he fell into an ancient tomb or labyrinth containing lost secrets that he'd so often heard of in the stories read to him at night. It was then that he heard weird noises. His body shook as they grew louder, sounding from a crevice in the rocks across from him until a swarm of bats engulfed him.

"Help!" He cried frantically, his voice carrying up the hallowed shaft to the ground above him.

Jillana peered into the well quickly. "My young prince, what is it?!"

Bruce waved his arms and screamed as the dark winged creatures screeched and fluttered around him. Jillana began to consider climbing in to carry him out herself until up ahead she saw King Thomas rushing her way with two of his king's-guard along with Alfred following.

"Is he all right?!" He asked worriedly.

"I don't know Your Highness."

The king ran to the well with Alfred trailing behind him. He grabbed an old rope that was by the well and climbed down to his son. His wasn't wearing his armor, merely a formal tunic and leggings to ease his descent.

Jillana saw the two patrol guards, Andrew and Marcus, also approaching with Rachel accompanying them.

"Two from the eastern patrol have been slain." She gestured her head to the area behind the shrub.

The guards nodded and marched towards the bodies. Alfred stood beside Jillana and noted the sword in her scabbard then the dead bodies being attended to. He couldn't understand how this happened so quietly. "Are you all right my lady?"

Jillana didn't reply but after a moment, she nodded stiffly just to placate her friend.

As King Thomas descended into the well he immediately noticed his son curled against the wall, laying on his side. Frightened and from what he could see slightly injured. Hearing the shuffling of boots, Bruce looked up and saw his father's calm and assuring eyes that so suddenly made him feel safe and protected.

Thomas' hand reached out for him. "Bruce. It is all right son." He whispered comfortingly.

Bruce cast one more apprehensive look at the crevice where the bats had swarmed from then disappeared to before he managed to tear his gaze away and take his father's hand.

Jillana stood with Alfred as the king lifted his son out from the dark well in his arms. Bruce was curled against him, his clothing bared small tears where his fall had grazed him.

"Sire," Alfred said. "Is the young prince well?"

King Thomas gave his loyal servant and Jillana an assuring nod as he carried Bruce in his arms. "Everything is fine." He said looking at his shaken up son. Bruce avoids their gazes despite making no efforts to hide his face. "He has a sprained wrist. Nothing serious."

"Very good, sire."

They passed a tearful Rachel standing with Jillana. Bruce touched Rachel's hands and gave her a small smile. Jillana stood still a moment as the others followed the king. She glared back at the shrub where the figure once stood before turning and retreating back with them.

A few minutes later...

The king carried his son into the main hall where his wife was waiting on the steps, dressed in a green robe looking distraught.

"He's fine my love." King Thomas assured.

Queen Martha followed her husband up the stairs as Alfred, Rachel and Jillana entered the hall, watching after the royal family. Alfred turned and looked at Jillana expectantly. She remained silent and walked away.

In his bedroom chambers young Bruce sat up in his bed, mending his sore wrist as his father entered and stood at the bed side. Bruce was prepared for a lecture, a reprimand or even a punishment. He was surprised to see his father offer him a proud smile.

"You were brave today my son."

Young Bruce was silent as he soon understood the reasoning for his father's praise. Despite facing that threatening man, he could not help to think about the bats clawing at his flesh. He looked down at his arms and saw the small marks.

"Do you know why the bats attacked you?" His father asked. "They were afraid of you."

The prince arched an eyebrow. "Those creatures afraid of me? I'm only a child." He said incredulously.

"All creatures feel fear my son."

"Bats are scary father. Why should they fear us?"

The king smiled at his son. "They feel fear when they are threatened. Do not judge something for it's appearance. Now get some rest. You will feel better at dawn."

Bruce grinned as his father leaves the room. "Father do you get scared?" He asked knowing that great kings never fear danger.

King Thomas turned and looked at his son. "Yes. I do get scared."

"You show no fear." Bruce replied.

"I was scared for you today. I was afraid that I might have lost you."

Bruce nodded his understanding, feeling momentarily guilty for not paying heed to Jillana's message. Before his father could turn to leave the room, Bruce said, "Father... there was a man there, outside the gardens."

"I know son." The king said tersely.

"Do you know who he was, and what he wanted?" Bruce noted how father's jaw clenched.

"No. But we are looking for him now. Do not worry my son. You are safe. Now get some rest. Your king commands you." He said with a jesting tone.

Bruce grinned and lowered his head into a soft pillow. Both of his eyes snapped shut as he fell to slumber.

The sunlight shone off the brick walls of the bedroom chamber as young Bruce opened his green hazel eyes to find his nurse maid Jillana standing there with a tray of breakfast.

"Don't be alarmed young prince. I was sent to bring you your breakfast" She offered in a humbled voice.

Bruce shifted and looked at the young woman that he knew from the first day he came into this world. She'd grown to become more than an nursemaid and a protector. He thought of her as the older sister he never had. She was always there to look after him as if it were her personal mission. He didn't know what he might do without her.

The loyal servant Alfred entered the room. "Took quite a fall didn't we young prince?"

Bruce looked at the grey haired man and formed a small smile.

"I will attend to the young prince Jillana. Your are needed back in the kitchen."

Jillana nodded to the request and strode out of the room. She looked at the young eight year boy that she made a vow to protect. Alfred followed her into the hall. She turned around and looked at the old servant. "I am sorry I let you down."

Alfred looked at the young nurse maid in a proud manner. "You protected the prince from that stranger. I thank you for that Jillana. Who knows what could of happened if you did not act."

"I promised my father that I would guard the young prince with my life. I feel that I have broken that vow." She spoke with a gloomy expression.

Alfred placed his hand on her shoulder. "No. You fulfilled it." He paused. "I know that things have been difficult for you..."

Bruce cocked his head and listened in on their conversation.

"Your father was a noble knight to our king and to our homeland. His death will never be forgotten."

Jillana tried to hold her tears. The memory of her father's passing was a harrowing one that left a hole inside of her. Since then, the man in front of her had been her best if not only friend she'd been able to confide in about her last moments with her father. He was the only one who knew of the responsibility she'd sworn and therefore he knew how much the prince's well-being mattered to her. He'd become an uncle to her as much as a friend.

"I fear that whatever was out there today will come again. We must keep the prince confined to his room. For the safety of the kingdom."

Alfred nodded briskly. "I think that choice is for the king to decide. Now go to the kitchen. I will attend to the young prince's needs."

Bruce listened to Jillana's retreating footsteps and felt a sense of dread in his gut. A lot made sense to him now, but with the knowledge he just learned came a nagging sense of concern for his friend. Before he could contemplate the matter further, Alfred entered the room to check on him.

After Alfred wrapped a cloth on the young prince's wrist, Bruce carefully left his room unseen by the servant and went to the stable grounds where he found Jillana kneeling down in a stall with her hands grasping a sword.

Tears were flowing from her eyes as he moved closer, listening to the words she recited.

"Protect the weak and the innocent," she muttered in a slur.

"Jillana," he spoke in a soft tone.

She turned around and looked at the young prince, slightly alarmed. "Your highness what are you doing here? You are supposed to be confined to your bedroom chambers."

"I needed to speak with you."

Jillana sighed, still disquieted. "Very well. Make this conversation quick or your father will have my head."

Bruce looked at the sword. "That's your father's sword isn't?" He asked.

"...Yes."

"What happened to him? My father told me that he was lost in battle."

Jillana shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. "No. He was killed in battle. Murdered in a merciless attack. All of his brave men were killed. When your father received news from a local villager it was grim."

She paused after feeling a lump form in her throat. Part of her didn't know why she was even telling the young prince this, but she considered it was best to tell him now while she still could. She swallowed softly before continuing. "They were counter-attacked by an army lead by a heartless soul that thirsts for blood. This sword is the only memory I have left of my father."

Bruce looked at her armor hidden underneath her castle garments. It was as he suspected. "You're going way Jillana?"

She looked at the child that she had watched grow since the day of his birth. She had wished to make her departure as quiet and painless for herself as possible. "I can't stay here any longer young prince. I am restless and I need to find another path to take." She explained, hoping that answer would suffice to him.

She felt her stomach sink with guilt towards the gloomy look on the boy's face. She felt horrible knowing she hadn't even considered how he would feel towards her silent departure. Perhaps she felt she would not be so missed as he still had his mother, father, Alfred and his dear friend Rachel to protect and look after him.

His expression told her enough that aside from his misery towards her departure, he was mostly afraid. Of what, to be left alone? No. She recalled his cries from the well and what the king had divulged to her after.

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him. "I know that you are scared young prince. Those bats were scary. You can not let fear consume your soul. It will take hold and make you become a slave to its power." She pulled away and wiped the tear off his cheek.

"Please don't leave me." Bruce urged.

"I will come back to you." She promised.

Bruce left the stables and moved to the courtyard. He heard the sound of hoofs hitting the stone and turned only to see the woman that raised and taught him, disappear into the bright sunlight.

There was much he wanted to say and ask her in most towards why her father made her vow to protect him but chose to trust her promise that she would one day return.

"Farewell my friend."

As he walked back to the castle archway, he muttered the words that Jillana spoke when she was kneeling in the stable.

"Protect the weak and the innocent." He muttered as the sound of footsteps came from behind. He cautiously turned around and saw no one.

"Hmmmm..." He thought when all of sudden he was pushed to the ground. "How dare you..." He looked up and saw Rachel standing there, her hair long and eyes bright.

"I fooled you young prince?" She laughed, trying to get a rise out of her friend.

Bruce wiped the dust off his leggings. "Do you have no pity on me? I am wounded." He held up his arm.

Rachel shrugged and lunged at him, pinning him to the ground.

"Rachel get off of me." He ordered.

She held him down and playfully gave him a fast kiss on the lips and pulled way still laughing.

Bruce wiped his lips with a grimace. "Disgusting."

"My mother says that you will be attending the Autumn Festival this evening with the king and queen."

"Just another boring night." He rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

"I heard that gypsies will be performing. My mother says that the gypsy folk are bad luck. Thieves and vandals. That's why they are always traveling on the road."

"My father told me not to judge." Bruce said in an earnest tone as he looked at the horses in the stables. A small black foal, with a white marking on it's forehead in a shape of a diamond, was standing near it's mother, a Frisian mare whom the queen rode during summer afternoons. Now the mare was occupied with a shy foal that belonged to Bruce.

Rachel looked at the pure black foal. "He is beautiful. I hope that you will let me ride him."

"Maybe."

"What are you going to call him?"

"Shadowcast." He smiled at the name.

Alfred came walking into the stable ground. "Young prince, it is time for your schooling."

Bruce rolled his eyes and walked away from the stables with his servant. "Why do I even have to attend these lessons Alfred. I already know the charters of my duties."

"Young Prince, as an heir to the throne you have the responsibility to understand the concept of what forms a kingdom. The lessons prepare your future. You will one day be wearing the crown."

"Don't remind me Alfred," Bruce said dryly.

It was no secret to Alfred that Bruce wasn't too happy with the idea the weight on an entire realm would fall on him one day. Alfred knew that it was a great burden on the young eight year old prince. In truth he had a feeling that Bruce's fate was about to change.

* * *

A red velvet curtain covered the stage as the king and queen took their seats in the front row. Everyone respected them. The King's-Guard however stood at opposite sides of the isles, keeping watch for any threats. The royal family sat in wooden chairs while young Bruce looked at the yellow-tinged moon above. It was a sign of change in the seasons.

The cold wind blew through his hair as a small child wearing a white harlequin mask, a jester hat with dark purple colors walked passed with another performer. Bruce knew that they were gypsies from the clothing and their movements.

Bruce might've been unhappy about his future responsibilities but he didn't take his lessons lightly nor the intelligence often brought to his father by his knights that kept the peace within the city. Some of the people they apprehended and imprisoned were - apart from the usually murderous and vile - thieves and vandals disguised as gypsies.

His father held a kind and compassionate heart and chose to imprison and attempt to rehabilitate them rather than sentence them to death or exile. In some parts it seemed to be working as most of the former prisoners appeared to have found a better purpose in life within or outside the realm.

This festivity was a wide gathering where the entire Elite of Gotham would gather to meet and socialize. Bruce didn't care for any of these gatherings but attended merely because it was expected of him. The people needed to see their future king taking an active interest in their lives and well-being.

There was another performance going on outside the grounds. Dancing near a bonfire and enjoying the harvest from the farms, Bruce saw a few children among the dancers dressed in colorful clothing looking happy.

Bruce wanted to join them but it would make his parents uneasy. Being heir to the throne meant he was also a target of interest. That much proved true after he was confronted by that stranger outside the palace gardens. Times like this were when he hated being heir to the throne. Living a pampered life was a comfortable experience but he didn't feel free.

He slouched into his seat as his mother leaned over. "Mind your posture Bruce. A prince never slouches," she chided him.

Bruce rolled his eyes and straightened himself up. Yes, he didn't feel free in more ways than one. He straightened his vest and the side of his leggings to a more comfortable position.

"What are we seeing?" The king asked.

"A French play," The Queen said, "by a French writer from overseas."

"And how is it? Any good?"

"A masterpiece," she remarked.

"Very well," The King said as he leaned back into his chair, relaxed.

Bruce saw a number of feet beneath the curtain. The actors, he realized. Bruce didn't like plays and even loathed the court-jester that would entertain the castle whenever his parents held feasts and balls for the people to partake in.

A minute later the musicians began to play music and the curtain rose to reveal women dressed as witches from legends wearing black cloaks. Their hair was long with pale makeup smeared on their faces. Bruce knew that they were just performers and there was no such thing as witches.

They all had lovely singing voices. There was a few children dressed in black as well. A small dark haired little girl caught his attention, she looked like a black cat and moved around the witches. All the characters seemed real to him. Then dancers dressed in black began to twirl their bodies and hang upside down, they wore capes and masks that made them look like bats. Large bats that circled above as the music grew louder.

The young Prince stared at the bats.

He had not controlled his inner terror as he could feel it working its way through his mind until the point it was controlling his body. Sweat ran off his forehead and he clutched the arm rest of his seat. The bats danced above the stage, flapping their long capes and moving their clawed hands as a tall figure wearing horns appeared. Bruce felt his heart racing.

"Bruce what is wrong?" The Queen asked, noticing her son's demeanor.

He was gasping for air. He could not answer his mother as all that he saw and felt were bats clawing at his skin and screeching into his ears. Once he realized he had been quiet for too long he exhaled and shook his head slightly.

Finally, he was able to speak through his distress. "May I go?"

The queen looked at her son then looked at her husband who had a questioning look. King Thomas could see the apprehension in his son's eyes and understood what was affecting him. He nodded.

"Yes. You will leave the performance and head to the carriage."

Bruce nodded and arose from the chair as he walked away in front of everyone. Thomas glanced towards one of his king's-guard, Nathaniel and nodded his head at him. The guard bows his head in deference and followed after Bruce, escorting him to the carriage.

Bruce ignored the other nobles and their children who were calling out to him to grab his attention and headed straight for the parked carriage guarded by a few of his father's men.

One of the guards opened the door and Bruce slid inside. The guard escorting Bruce turned and resumed his post at the play. The prince felt embarrassed with his fears and it soon turned to frustration with himself. He was the Prince of Gotham and future heir to the throne, he couldn't be afraid of something so trivial.

What would he do when All-Hallows came? Would he hide in his castle afraid to peek out and see Rachel among other children laughing and enjoying the festivities in costume while he wallowed in fear? "I won't," he thought to himself angrily. He still felt afraid and nervous but he wouldn't let himself be ruled by it.

He released a troubled sigh as looked out the window at the full moon. There was such mystery with that treasure of the world. It was like anyone who gazed upon it was under it's power. The terror that etched at his soul had faded with the comfort of the moon.

The carriage doors opened and he saw the faces of his parents.

"Are you all right Bruce?" His mother asked, stepping inside and sitting next to him. The king sat across.

"He's fine. I think it's time to head back to the castle."

Bruce bowed his head, feeling even more ashamed of himself for ruining his parent's night. As if sensing his son's guilt, Thomas reached forward and took his forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Its all right son. I didn't care much for the play, its of no concern."

The queen rolled her eyes at her husband. Thomas took notice and grinned at his wife. "A masterpiece you said?"

Martha slapped his knee and Thomas releases a chuckle. Bruce manages a small smile at them. His parents could always make him feel better and it was that, that made him appreciate them all the more.

The carriage moved through the forests on a gravel road surrounded by a score of twenty knights in the Kings-Guard on horseback. Across from them, a stranger stood in the middle of the road wearing his hooded cloak, gazing at the royal guards riding along.

"Tonight I will have what is most precious to you good king." He raised his arms high and shadows stepped from the darkness wearing torn clothes. They are all armed and ready. "Take whatever gold you can steal but the prince is mine." He ordered.

Bruce was just as confused as his mother and father when they felt the carriage had begun to slow to a steady halt.

"Why are we stopping?" Martha asked.

"I don't know." Thomas answered.

Glancing outside the closed curtain, Thomas could see they are at the center of the forest just beyond the nearest sentry outpost of the city. It was pitch dark in the night and with the exception of the torches his guards carried it was difficult to see what was delaying them.

On the road in front of the carriage, Matthew the Captain of the King's-Guard rode up ahead towards the man blocking the escort. The stranger didn't move, he kept an undeterred posture in the face of the soldiers in front of him. The moonlight shone from above, illuminating his garments hauntingly.

Matthew's horse stirred to a stop as he held his torch aloft with a cautious hand on his sword sheathed at his hip.

"Stranger. You are standing in the way of the King's Escort. Stand aside and be on your way." He said in the most polite tone a guard could muster.

The stranger's response was a deep ominous laugh. Matthew's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword instinctively.

"Such is why I stand within your path king's-guard. Your king carries something of great value to me."

Inside the carriage, Thomas called over one his guards, Andrew, to his side. "What is happening?"

"Someone is blocking the path Sire, we'll handle it."

The stranger took a slow step forward while Matthew slowly started to unsheathe his weapon.

"Turn from this road and be your way. I will not ask again." Matthew spoke in a firmer tone to get his point across.

The man laughed even louder this time as his hands formed into tight fists at his sides. He spoke predominantly. "That's not going to happen. The last two knights I felled in pursuit of your prince would attest to that if they could..."

Matthew drew his sword in a flash and pointed at the cloaked man. "Guards, at arms! Protect the king-"

Before the Captain could say another word, he was knocked from his horse by a spear thrown from the darkness. He fell from his steed, his torch clattered to the ground beside him, the torch impaled to his chest. The cloaked figure stood above him and lifted the torch.

"Attack!" He roared into the forests.

"Stay in here both of you! Do not come out no matter what you hear." King Thomas all but ordered his wife and son as he climbed out of the carriage with his sword in hand.

"Thomas, be careful!" Martha pleaded as she pulled Bruce up beside her.

Thomas closed the door to the carriage and saw his men forming a tight circle around the carriage and him while up ahead he could hear the clashing of swords. Andrew rushed up to him.

"Sire, the captain has been slain. We're being ambushe-"

They are taken by surprise as a volley of flaming arrows flew from the forests in their direction. "Sire!" Andrew tackled Thomas to the ground before a flaming arrow could lodge itself into his neck. He acted instinctively and covered them both with his shield and felt the vibrations of multiple arrows striking the surface. The heat from the flames was almost unbearable.

Thomas felt his loyal guard stiffen and could see that he could not withstand the onslaught for too long.

"We are outnumbered. We're not too far from the outpost. Sound the call." Thomas ordered.

"Aye your Highness."

"Now!" Thomas rolled out from beneath the shield and Andrew drew up an ox-horn and brought it to his lips, sounding the call.

Thomas rolled into a fighting position and found himself being charged by a raggedly dressed hostile with an axe. The king stood ready and parried the swing. Showing no quarter, he spun and slashed across the waist, spilling the man's guts upon the road.

He spared a quick glance back at the carriage. "Andrew guard the carriage, let nothing and no one reach my family!"

"Aye sire!"

The guard held his shield in front of him as he stood guard in front of the curtain where his queen and prince hid inside. It took a moment for the soldier to realize that their attackers were all dressed familiarly. They wore tattered brown garments beneath long coats with hats above their heads. A few carried knives in their hands while the more capable ones carried longer swords.

"Gypsies," he realized.

Some of them were former prisoners of Castle Black Gate; released when their sentences were served. Now they were attacking the king for what reason, vengeance? He shrugged the thought as he lifted his shield in time to block another arrow sent in his direction. They needed to hold their ground long enough to kill all the hostiles or await reinforcements.

"They're in the trees! Ferret them out!" Thomas roared above the noise.

The few of his men left alive, drew their bows and take aim at the trees and release volley after volley of arrows, however their targets were well concealed and with the poor lighting it was difficult to find a good vantage point. A few guards managed to fell their targets from behind the trees however their attacker's ground forces pressed their attack.

Thomas picked up a lance and stabbed it into the neck of a thief ready to strike down one of his men. He paid no heed to the lifeless look in man's eyes and withdrew his weapon. He'd seen very little combat during his time as king, but he knew he would need to make the hard decisions of taking a life when there was no other choice. Right now he felt there was none. He could see their numbers were dwindling and he could wait no longer for reinforcements to arrive. He needed to get his family to safety.

"Marcus! Away, drive on past! Get my family to safety!"

His guardsman finished killing a vandal with a slash of his sword across the neck. He looked at his king in confusion despite his exhaustion.

"Sire?!"

"GO NOW!" He roared as he threw a fist across the face of a thief in front of him. Andrew stepped away from his position and assists his king in battle. Marcus however unwilling to leave his king's side, understood the severity of the situation. The prince needed to be protected for the good of the kingdom.

He makes haste for the horses at the front of the carriage and pulled off the dead rider, pierced by a flaming arrow, then took the reigns himself. He gave no pause as he kicked the sides of the horse, "Hyah!" then the carriage takes off at a fast pace.

Inside the carriage Bruce and Martha, who had been holding onto each other fearfully since they stopped, were confused that they were now moving and Thomas hadn't reentered the carriage with them. Outside they could still hear the sounds of battle.

"What is happening? Why hasn't father come back?" Bruce asked, now more frightened than before.

"I-I don't know my son," Martha said shakily. She considered the possibility that either Thomas had sent them off away from the battle or they were being taken captive in the midst of the battle while her husband was distracted... or worse. "No," she thought timidly.

She couldn't be sure what happened to Thomas but she couldn't gamble with her son's life. She released her son and reached beneath the cushion they were sitting on and pulled out a dagger. Bruce's eyes widened at the sight of his mother carrying a weapon.

"Mother?!"

"Stay seated my son, we cannot be too careful here."

Despite his unease, Bruce did as his mother told him and watches anxiously as she leans out the window to the carriage to get a look at their rider driving them. The wind whipped against her and she could vaguely see the familiar armor belonging to one of her husband's guards.

"Marcus?!"

"Your Highness step back inside! Please!" He yelled over his shoulder after catching a glance at her.

Martha was mortified by the sight of so many dead bodies they passed by. "Who could've done this?" she wondered. She glanced back towards the guard driving the carriage.

"We cannot leave without the king!" She yelled over towards Marcus.

"I have the king's orders Your Highness! Please step back in..."

Marcus' eyes caught sight of a glowing piece of metal on the road across from him. He was oblivious to the cloaked man wearing it who stood under the pale beams of the moonlight shining down on them. Marcus' gaze began to drift as it became too difficult to focus on the road in front of him.

Inside the carriage, Bruce could sense something was wrong as the carriage began to make shaky turns which caused he and his mother to grab onto the closest object in front of them to keep their balance.

"Mother, what is happening?"

Martha could barely hear her son beneath the loud noises of the carriage steering unsteadily on the road.

"Marcus, what is wrong?!"

When she received no response, she took notice of the guard sitting in a slouch with the reigns dangling loose in his hands. She knew something was seriously wrong. She noticed a dark shape on the path in front of them now brandishing a large metal pole in his hands. Her eyes grew fearful.

"Marcus look out!" She screamed but it was too late as soon as they passed the dark shape, he spun and jammed the pole into the wheel of the carriage causing the entire transport to fly forward, crashing on its side. Martha had jumped back into the carriage and held Bruce to her with all her might before they felt the viscous crash and darkness surrounded them.

Back at the ambush site, King Thomas noticed the carriage crash in the distance up ahead and felt his heart sink into his stomach.

"NO!" He cried out in distress.

The distraction was enough that he is tackled by one of the thieves brandishing a knife. Thomas felt the blade stab into his exposed shoulder and gasped. The social festivity they traveled to meant he wore no armor for the occasion which left him at a disadvantage. The knowledge that his family was in danger wouldn't let him be hindered now. He threw his head back and smashed it against the skull of the thief on top of him then pushed him off.

He shrugged off the stinging pain in his shoulder as he climbed back to his feet and drew one of the horses.

"Andrew!" He yelled over the ongoing battle.

The guard turned and saw his king saddled to depart. Up ahead in the distance he could see the overturned carriage. Alex nodded his understanding and yelled over to their remaining numbers. "Press on! Give them no quarter lads!"

Thomas kicked his horse into a gallop with one hand holding the reigns and the other cradling his wounded shoulder. On the ground Thomas' attacker is pulled to his feet by one of his comrades.

"You almost had him Chill. We can't let em' get away now or else we won't get paid!"

"After you Kyle," he spat as he pushed the man away and took off in a sprint towards the retreating king.

"They're going after the king! We must not let them gain ground!" A guard, Nathaniel, cried over the chaos as the vandals and thieves began to retreat on horseback in pursuit of the royal family.

Bruce awoke to the sight of the pale moonlight shining down on him. He groaned loudly as he felt his head ache in pain where he suspected he was struck during the crash... His eyes widened at the memory as he shifted on his back, trying to regain his bearings. His movements made enough noise to alert someone nearby as he heard a shuffling of steps. He tensed in fear until he heard a familiar voice.

"My son its okay. Don't be afraid."

The sight of his father alive, kneeling above him brought great relief to the eight-year old until he remembered he was not alone in the crash. He turned his head and saw his mother laying on the ground beside him while in the background laid an overturned carriage with the horses injured on the ground in front of it.

Bruce wasn't sure how much time had passed since they had crashed or when they were attacked, but he was certain it was long enough for his father to get here and pull them out of the carriage by himself. Bruce wanted to ask so many questions, "why is this happening, are we safe?" Yet the only questioned that mattered to him right now was.

"Mother... is she..."

Thomas nodded his head. "She's alive. But unconscious. I know you're scared son, but I need you to be brave for us right now. Can you stand?"

"Yes, I can."

Bruce knew it was futile to deny the fact he was terrified of all the sounds of death and chaos, but he drew strength from the fact his father was depending on him right now.

Thomas nodded with approval. "We need to hurry my son. They'll be chasing us. I need you take the horse and fly to the nearest outpost and raise the alarm. I will be following behind with your mother."

Bruce looked at his father fearfully, sensing his implication. "No, I can't leave you!"

They are both startled when they heard Martha gasp awake on the ground. Thomas immediately moved to his wife's side and checked her over. "My love are you okay?" He asked softly.

Martha nodded frantically however her expression soon turned desperate. "Bruce! Where is he?!"

"I'm here mother. I am all right." Bruce said as he rose to his feet.

Martha instantly relaxed with a relieved look, seeing her son relatively unharmed from their ordeal. Martha looked towards Thomas as he helped her to her feet and noticed the bleeding wound on his shoulder. "Thomas you're hurt."

She touched his wound emotionally, Thomas covered her hand with his and shook his head. "Its just a flesh wound my dear, we don't have time to linger on." He turned to Bruce then Martha, "I need you both to ride to the outpost and have them send as many ready forces as they can."

Bruce again stepped forward and objected. "No, I won't leave you father!"

"You will do as I command Bruce Wayne!" Thomas shouted with a fierce look. The look of a king.

Bruce swallowed softly and Thomas felt remorse for his temper. He looked to Martha for assistance and she nodded and pulled her son close to her. "You're father needs us to be safe. We must go," she led him to the horse where she put him up onto the saddle.

In the distance of the ambush site, Thomas could hear the approaching sound of hooves. Once he saw his wife and son were situated he gave the horse a slap on the side. "GO!" He yelled.

The horse took no more than a few feet ahead before it was struck with a flaming arrow, sending Martha and Bruce tumbling to the ground. Thomas released an agonizing cry at the sight and as he felt an arrow lodge into his knee. He pulled it out with a grunt and wasted no time in rushing back to his family.

In front of him came another vandal carrying a dagger ready to stab him. Thomas, unarmed caught the attacker's arm and twisted until the dagger was stabbed into the man's gut. He shoved the corpse away and continued towards his family. His face was covered with dried blood and sweat and his royal garments were a tattered mess of tears, dust and blood.

He could see Martha and Bruce up ahead, stirring into a situp position. Before he go any further, he is confronted by two more hostiles. One carried a spear and the other a trident. Thomas knew he was unarmed and outmatched and before he could resign himself to his fate, he is startled when one of the hostiles is struck in the face with a shield and the other a knife to the throat. He looked beside him and saw Andrew had come to his aid.

"Sire. I fear we may not hold out much longer." He said with panted breaths.

"Thank you my friend. Allow me but a moment," Thomas said tiredly.

Andrew nodded as what remained of the Kings-Guard, 8 knights, formed a small perimeter in front of their king. All of them were prepared to die though many felt they would be left wondering why their call for aid hadn't been responded to. Thomas came to his family's side. In the distance he could hear the ongoing sound of battle charging their way.

"Thomas," Martha said timidly. "What do we do?"

The king said nothing as he looked down at his son who clung to his mother's side, frightened and tearful. He knelt down in front of him and pulled his son into a hug. "Bruce. I need you to hide in the bushes." Thomas urged as he pulled away and looked at his son.

"It's going to be all right."

Thomas looked at Martha in silent question. She nodded her understanding. In the background they could hear the noise of battle come dangerously close to them. Behind them they could hear screams and the clashing of steel.

"Now go quickly," Thomas ushered his son. Bruce slipped into the bushes unseen by the cloaked attackers. He covered his mouth with his hands and saw both of his parents standing near the destroyed carriage.

Thomas surveyed the carnage with a dismal look. All his guards laid dead in front of him and they were all being looted and searched for any coin or treasure they possessed. "Have you no respect!" Thomas admonished their attackers.

They looked towards the king and queen and chuckled cruelly. One of the men, Thomas recognized as the one that stabbed him, approached with the same knife drawn and pointed at the king. His gaze switched from the king and queen, appraising them with greedy eyes.

"How much coin do you carry my king?!" He spoke in a taunting tone. "More than enough to buy a new carriage on the road I would take it?"

Thomas said nothing but faced him with no fear. The thief licked his lips as he spied the jewelry around the queen's neck.

"Let us start with her Highness' pearls. Hand them over."

He took a step towards the queen until he is stopped by a booming voice. "Halt, Joseph! You will have your spoils, but not until I have an audience..." Everyone started as the tall cloaked man materialized into their presence and marched towards the royal family, "with the king and queen."

The king shielded his wife by standing in front of her as the stranger peered at both of them with daring eyes.

"Evening Your Highness?" He hissed, looking at the fear in the queen's eyes. He noticed that the prince was not with them.

"What do you want?" The king asked in a defensive tone.

The cloaked stranger could sense that a child was nearby. "Where is the child?"

Bruce's eyes widened as he recognized the monster in the cloak. His body was trembling with fear and apprehension. For himself and his parents.

The king maintained a blank look as he shook his head in response to the stranger's question.

"He is not here. My son is safe." He said determinedly once he realized the stranger in front of him was likely the same one that threatened his son outside his own home.

The stranger scoffed with an evil sneer directed at the king. "Is that so?" He growled as he lunged at the king and placed him into a choke hold. The king gasped and his eyes grew large in pain however no screams escaped his mouth as he felt his insides grow heavy and dry.

The stranger knew the king would die before giving away his son and he would not disappoint him. "I must say it's been an honor watching you die." He watched with morbid pleasure as King Thomas' flesh turned into stone before his eyes.

"Thomas!" Martha screamed as she watched her husband become a soulless stone statue that fell to the ground with a thud. She knelt down, tears were rolling down her face as the stranger looked at her with a demanding look.

"Where is your son?" He snarled.

Martha closed her eyes as she prepared herself to die. She dared not cast a glance over her shoulder to give Bruce parting words or looks of affection for she knew it would only draw attention to him.

"My son is safe from your cold hands demon!" She retorted with defiant eyes, wet with tears.

The stranger grabbed her throat and pulled off her pearls then threw them to Joesph who caught them with a greedy smile. The thieves fled with their loot and disappeared within the shadows of the trees.

The queen screamed as his hand squeezed tightly and her flesh began to turn into stone. "Demon? Try Warlock," He chuckled mercilessly as he watched her slow death. "Any last words Your Highness?"

Martha gasped before she managed to reply "I love my son. And you will never have him."

The warlock chuckled. "No one can protect the prince. He will belong to me."

Martha felt one last tear escape her eye before the evil magic consumed her body. Her last hope was that her son would one day recover from this traumatic ordeal and live the happy life she always wanted for him. She gave her last breath.

The warlock released his hold and the statue that was once the Queen of Gotham fell onto the front of the other that was once the King of the Gotham. He admired his work for a moment before allowed his gaze to wander the deathly sights surrounding him.

Bruce sat there in the darkness as tears flowed from his eyes silently. Words could not describe how hopeless and destroyed he felt inside. The two people he loved and cherished more than his own life were taken from him in the most cruel way imaginable. This night would haunt him for the rest of his life which he realized might not be long as the monster who killed his parents sniffed the air.

"You can't hide forever boy. I will find you." He warned while moving closer to the bushes.

Bruce had been covering his mouth this entire time to repress his screams and even now he was certain it would be useless if the monster could smell him or hear his heartbeat racing with terror.

"Tell me what do you fear young prince? Do you fear to be all alone?" He mocked, poking his hands through the branches.

Bruce slowly backed away towards a tree. The warlock stood still with an amused look as he caught a stronger whiff of the boy's fear.

"Wait, do you fear the bats?" He laughed. "I think when I find you I will turn you into that which you fear most. A little bat."

Bruce saw the man's dark bearded face from his hiding position. The warlock chuckled evilly as he caught sight of the boy.

"A disgusting little creature. That is what you are. A little bat that will shutter from the outside world." The man reached closer and was about to touch Bruce when an authoritative voice blared from behind.

"Get away from the prince!"

The warlock turned around and saw the armored knight named Sir James Gordon in front of him, his sword pointing towards him. He snickered with a false show of amazement. "If it isn't the honest Captain of the Knights? I wonder if he can live up to his vow and save the little prince."

"Is that a challenge?" Gordon growled as he swung his sword at the taller man who stepped away cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon sheathed beneath his cloak. "Get out of sight!" The captain ordered.

He did not care about being out numbered by this stranger's men. His only concern was to get the prince to safety. "Make one move I will cut your throat."

"A threat coming from a noble knight that shows mercy to his enemies?"

"I'm not afraid of your minions," Gordon protested.

The sounds of horses galloping echoed into the area. Reinforcements from Gordon's battalion were heading their way.

The warlock hissed, knowing he would soon be outnumbered. "This is not over. One day the prince will belong to me." He twirled his cape and disappeared into the shadows.

Gordon looked at the prince who was sobbing in a curled position up against a willow tree, embracing his knees to his chest. The captain felt disheartened by sight of it. There were no words he could offer that would change everything the prince had seen and lost tonight he knew. He could only assure the boy of his safety.

"My prince. It's all right." He wrapped his strong arms around the boy and lifted him off the ground.

"Let us get you out of here."

He made his way back to the road where his horse was waiting. The young prince looked down at the bodies of his dead parents. Forever trapped in stone. Tombstones. That's what they were now. No feeling of warmth just coldness. Tears flowed from his eyes as light rain began to pour down.

"It's okay." Gordon's tone prompted the young prince to trust him.

They wait patiently as a score of armored knights on horseback ride down the road and enter their midst. Bruce looked away from them and set his gaze on the moonlight above him. He could not look at his parents' remains nor would he wish for the knights to see the guilt and the grief within his eyes.

"Captain Gordon," One of the knights addressed running over to him. "We have to move the prince to safety. He is no longer safe to travel these roads."

Gordon nodded. "I will bring him back to the castle. Round up the rest of the gypsies. They could not have gotten far." He ordered as he lifted himself on the horse's saddle with Bruce tucked under his chest. The young prince looked daze and uncertain. His eyes traveled over the dead guards that died defending him and his family. He noticed the ox-horn beside Andrew. The horn that should have brought help to them sooner.

"Hold on, young prince." Gordon said as he rode away from the crime scene.

Light snow fell over the tombs. Mourners dispersed and were guided away by the king's-guards. In the distance a church bell tolled. Alfred stood beside the young prince who wore a crown on his thick dark hair and his family crest. A man approached them, a member of the King's Inner Council named William. He nodded to the servant and then crouched down, looking at the passive heir to the throne.

"The kingdom is in excellent hands young prince. We will be minding the duties of this land. When you come of age, the throne will be waiting for you."

The young prince stared blankly at the Head of the Council who soon took his leave along with the rest of the nobles and even foreign allies who had all come to pay their respects. The prince showed no reaction to their looks of sympathy nor words of comfort. Not even from his friend Rachel who had also attended. He felt numb inside. Nothing could remove the abyss that had now formed within him.

Alfred placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Come young prince, let's return to the castle."

Bruce took one last glance at the graves of his parents and lowerd his head.

A few days passed and the young prince never left his bedroom chambers. He refused any guests or visitors that came to see him, even his friend Rachel. Bruce just stood by the window of the tower and looked at the sunrise and the sunset. The days grew darker as winter began to creep its way into the kingdom.

On some occasion he would notice Rachel outside who after being refused his company, would waive to him from down below. For her sake, Bruce weakly returned the gesture. He would make bad or rather nonexistent company in his current state and he didn't want anyone's sympathy.

He didn't deserve it.

Alfred entered the room tenderly. "The cooks have prepared supper. It's waiting downstairs in the Dining Hall for you sire."

There was no response only silent whimpering. Alfred would press him no further, knowing the prince needed time. Time to adjust to his losses and to the sudden changes in his life.

"Very well, I will leave you to your thoughts." He turned to leave the room.

"Alfred?" The prince's strangled voice broke free.

Alfred paused and faced him. "Yes, your Highness?"

The young prince looked at his loyal servant and the walls he'd built in the last few days had fell with his expression. "It was my fault. If I hadn't gotten scared at the festival. They would be alive. Now this kingdom will fall because I am responsible for the king's death."

"Oh no, no-"

Alfred moved to the young prince and Bruce crashed himself into his servant's waist as tears flowed from his eyes.

"It was nothing that you did Sire, it was that stranger and him alone." He pulled Bruce back to look into his eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Bruce blinked away his tears. It didn't make feel any better. With the weight of the realm to fall on his shoulders in less than a decade, he never felt so lost.

"How am I going to rule my father's kingdom? I needed him to guide me." He buried himself again into Alfred's waist. "There will never be a more greater king than my father."

Alfred narrowed his pale blue eyes down at the prince. "There will be. I am staring at him right now."

Bruce slowly pulled away and moved to the window only to stand there in silence.

* * *

A/N : A big thank you to my editor and friend for helping create the start of this epic story. I could of never done this without you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_After that night the young prince was never the same. His once bright smile that could light up a room in the castle walls was turned into a passive mask as he spent his dark days in a tower blankly staring at his kingdom. I knew him better of course. His pain over the years had not diminished he merely grew better at concealing it._

_I stood by his side during those cold nights when he felt no comfort. When he thought that he was not loved. I watched him grow from a young boy into a dashing dark haired man whose eyes were burned with the desire of vengeance. The prince became careless to his duties and shut himself from the people of his father's kingdom._

_He became the unwanted, the contemptuous, he became the hated. Everything his father wasn't. What proved worse was the prince did not seem to care. He only went outside to brush his mighty black stallion Shadowcast. Sometimes I would find the stable empty and a saddle removed._

_That was his only freedom. To ride into the forests outside the kingdom and practice his sword fighting skills. I knew that he would never be the same child that he used to be. He would never move on. I feared that he would become truly lost._

Fourteen years later...

The sound of galloping entered the airways as a glimpse of darkness raced through the thick evergreens beyond the castle grounds. A dark chocolate brown haired rider fired arrows at a wooden shield hanging above the branches. A sword is sheathed at a scabbard at his waist. His hazel green eyes focused on the marking on the shield as he released an arrow and watched it land into the wood.

The rider paused and looked at his success. He learned how to use the sword quite well in the last ten years and now felt it was time to master his archery skills. Aside from his archery practice Bruce spent his time wandering the countryside of his homeland away from the villages and the capital itself. It was out here he could remain a solitary figure, away from the sight of contemptuous stares and vulgar insults thrown his way by the people of his own kingdom.

Truthfully it did bother him but not to the effect it made him seek solitude. He felt he deserved their hate, their scorn and their insults since it was because of him the king and queen were gone. Alfred convinced him day and night it wasn't his fault but the fact was that man... that monster was after him and his parents paid for it.

Each arrow Bruce fired, he imagined that shrouded face as his target. He found his aim to be true with each practice session he took. When he practiced his sword fighting skills, he pretended the face beneath each wooden dummy he clashed his sword with was that monster. It was an endless cycle for the last ten years. He wasn't entirely sure why he preferred to be alone out here. Maybe some part of him hoped that that monster would come back to face and him and when it did, the prince would be ready for him.

His words were painted into his memory from that night when he confronted the Captain of the Knights. He would be back. Bruce didn't tell Alfred any of this as to not incur anymore protectiveness or bold lectures from his servant. If he had told him, Alfred would've sent the kings-guard to shadow his movements each time he rode free from the castle.

He was certain the first time he took off on his own, Alfred had in fact sent the guards in search of him. Over time Bruce became so good at being evasive that Alfred soon stopped sending them to chase after him. It was an unspoken agreement he guessed. He would arrive back at the castle before nightfall and if not by then Alfred and the Council would inform the Knights and the King's-Guard to seek him out and bring him home.

Bruce wasn't sure why they bothered. They didn't need him. Bruce entrusted his wealth to Alfred to help disperse among the people as his father did before and the Council could make all the necessary decisions used in governing the kingdom. What was he needed for?

He released another arrow with a rougher jerk from the bow string and watch it sail and stab his target with a loud thud. He sighed as he checked his quiver and saw it is empty. Moving forward he set about inspecting the accuracy of his shots and the depth they went in before he began to pull them out one at a time. The arrows that proved to be to be too trapped he broke in half.

His archery skills were sufficient enough, perhaps it was time to begin his hand-to-hand fighting skills. His musing is interrupted as the sound of another horse echoed through the trees. He smirked his thin m shaped lips and patted his horse Shadowcast's neck.

"Looks like a fair maiden has come to join us, boy."

A dark haired woman came galloping his way. She rode with elegance as she stopped beside him. "I was wondering were you've been hiding Bruce."

The prince looked at his childhood friend Rachel. He threw her a side-ways glare before he continued on his task. "What are you doing here Rachel?"

"I have a right to ride through the forest." Rachel addressed. "Now if you do not mind I would like to continue my ride."

"I do mind." Bruce huffed, acting stubborn. "Seeing that I am the prince and I own these lands."

Rachel crossed her arms. "You are a prince in name only Bruce, because you sure don't act like one."

Bruce's lips formed into a scowl. "How dare you speak those words to me Rachel. I thought you were my friend."

"I speak the truth. You're out here practicing archery while the kingdom that your family built is decaying. Are you blind to not see that there is darkness on this good land? There are so many good people here Bruce. Corruption and injustice are taking over their hearts and minds. Are you just going to standby and do nothing?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "I am not my father. I am not going to be the one that saves this kingdom." He barked.

A tense silence followed as Rachel looked upon him with disappointment. Bruce didn't care, he'd grown used to it by now as he so often received it from the people he was supposed to be helping.

"I thought that you would make a good leader like your father... I was wrong."

Out of his anger Bruce rode away from her. Rachel meant well but she couldn't understand him. He wasn't even sure how he could help her to. This wasn't the life he wanted, the life he was born into. He wanted his freedom, but at the same time a large part of him wanted to follow his father's example by helping the people.

He wasn't ignorant. He wandered into town and the nearby villages in a disguise to see the people for himself and he was disgusted by the injustice they suffered and the lack of protection from the Gotham Knights. Throwing coin at the problem wouldn't help he believed, he wasn't sure what would.

He made his horse cut deeper into the forest, branches scratched his cheeks as he pressed on not knowing where he was heading. He had to escape from this life. Away from the bitter memories that surrounded him everyday reminding him of his painful past and his empty existence.

He rode faster until Shadowcast stopped dead in front of the ruins of a castle. Bruce fell directly off and landed into the water with a yell. Bruce arose a second later, his clothing was drenched, hair wet and expression sour to his horse. "Next time warn me!" He growled, picking himself back up.

Shadowcast backed away from the lake, kicking the dirt up with the front of his hoof.

"Shadowcast come here." Bruce ordered, walking back across the grass as a few swans swam near him and just stared at him. Bruce thought nothing of it as he drew closer to his black horse and grabbed the reigns.

He hopped onto the horse's back and guided Shadowcast away from the small lake back into the forest. He sighed heavily as he felt his stomach churn. He could not leave like this even if he was set on it.

"Let's go back to the castle." He replied to the stallion as they galloped through the branches and headed up to the direction that would lead them to the castle grounds.

* * *

The prince of Gotham arrived at the stables nearly an hour after his encounter with Rachel only to find his worried servant Alfred standing there with a displeased look. That look Bruce was all too used to by now that came with a lecture.

"Have a pleasant ride, Your Highness? I believe that you said you would not be shooting those arrows anymore." Alfred said, looking at the bow attached to the horse's saddle. "Thrill seeking again?"

Bruce scowled. "I wasn't."

Alfred pointed to the mud on the prince's riding boots. "What would you call that?"

Bruce casts an exaggerated look at his boots. "Mud? I fell into a lake."

Alfred looked over his charge, taking note of his wet clothes and the scratches left on his arms and cheeks.

"It's a miracle that you weren't injured Your Highness."

"I rather enjoyed it." The prince remarked dryly.

Bruce climbed off the horse and guided Shadowcast to his stall. Alfred followed him.

"You could've been attacked Your Highness, at least you could accept the escort of your kings-guar-"

"I can protect myself Alfred!" The prince cut him off vehemently after hearing the word "ambush". Too many bad memories were associated with that word. "They would only draw attention to me anyway."

Alfred wasn't deterred. "You are becoming too careless with your duties as a prince. You need to focus on your studies, you're behind on them. You came of age a year ago, you should already be on the throne." He chided.

Bruce cringed as he sets his sword down against the wall and removes his wet cape. "I don't care about history or royal duties... or this castle It's not..." He shrugged and lowered his head.

"Not what? You need to start caring about this kingdom. It's all that is left of your father. Do not destroy the foundations that have sheltered these lands for generations. For you would be destroying your father, his name and everything he stood for."

Bruce's lips formed into a scowl as his stubbornness resurfaced. "I do not care about the throne. This darkening kingdom. I-... I need something more." He spoke with a wistful tone.

Alfred sighed. "You have everything, Sire. What more do you want?"

Bruce was silent. "Something that makes me worthwhile without wearing a crown."

Alfred wasn't sure what his prince meant by that but felt dismayed by his words. "The people didn't accept Thomas Wayne as their king because he wore the crown."

Bruce looked at his servant with question.

"They accepted him, because they loved him. Because it was his compassion, his will and his dedication that made him worthwhile. You carry those same qualities my prince. That is all you will need."

Bruce like many times felt humbled by his friend's words. No matter how far he fell, it seemed Alfred would never forsake him. Jillana might, Rachel might and the people might. But not him. "You have not given up on me have you?"

Alfred smiled. "Never, Your Highness."

Bruce managed a faint smile in return however timid he still felt with his own thoughts towards his future. Alfred knew his charge well enough to know he needed time to think. He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Once you're done attending to your horse. You are needed in the library."

When Alfred left the stable grounds, Bruce allowed himself to slouch as he let the corners of his lips become slightly slack. He patted Shadowcast's head and then thought about the kingdom. Everything Alfred said was true... to an extent. But he wasn't ready to sit on the throne and rule Gotham. He wanted to have freedom. He also knew the price that freedom would cost. He looked at the saddle which made his lips slack upward and pulled in over the horses back.

"Let's go catch the wind." He whispered as he hooked the saddle and pulled himself up high onto the horses back. He could eat and handle his duties when he returned. He looked at the setting sun and smacked his boots on the horse's side.

"Let's go Shadow."

The horse responded and galloped out of the stable and through the archway.

* * *

Bruce felt a rush of excitement as he ventured back on his familiar trek through the forests headed as far as his horse could carry him. His whole life he had been confined to the palace and wasn't allowed outside after dark and right now he ached and relished the feel of the cool night winds blowing against his face. The moonlight coming down on him, the speed of his travel, the open land in front of him and the absence of thoughts... It all felt liberating and exciting. He felt free.

This was what he he'd been craving for so long since those days he used to scale the castle walls as a boy seeking imaginary adventure. His mind paid no heed to the fact he was venturing into not too dissimilar territory where his he had lost his family over a decade ago. He didn't fear the forest. He didn't fear the night. He would take it back. "I am the night..." he thought to himself determinedly.

As his thoughts wandered, they centered on that dreadful evening he had lost his parents. If there was an emotion that burned within him more than his pain and his fear it was his anger. He wanted revenge. The thought of hunting down everyone from that night and beating them to a crimson mess was a tempting thought. The Gotham Knights had managed to capture nearly everyone involved with the ambush including that thief who had taken his mother's pearl necklace which had been returned to the castle afterwards. But not him.

The Prince's hands clenched on the reigns as that hooded face flashed through his memory. He would never forget that face he felt. He didn't live in fear of it, only hate. If the day came where they crossed paths again... the prince never felt the desire to take a life even if his future duty would necessitate it in the defense of his home, but right now he didn't feel beyond making that hard choice. He sighed as his gaze shifted to the moon high above him. "What do I do..." He whispered to himself.

So distracted he was in his thoughts, he didn't notice the very tight rope tied between two trees across from him. Shadowcast whined loudly as he came to halt and Bruce flew from his saddle and crashed onto his side with a loud groan.

"Shadowcast you bast-"

He noticed the rope that his mare had nearly run into and with surprising reflexes Bruce grunted into a fast roll in time to avoid a net being thrown at him. He could hear over a dozen voices yelling in a foreign language he didn't understand. He gave it no further thought as his defensive instincts kicked in and he began to blindly lash out at the shapes coming at him.

There were many of them, all dressed in strange black clothing with unique black armor he'd had not seen before. Their faces were covered with black masks made of simple cloth that left their eyes exposed. Most were unarmed however the prince noted a few standing in the background bearing nets, swords, tridents and spears. He instinctively reached to his side and cursed as he remembered he left his sword behind at the stable.

He was vastly outnumbered but he wasn't discouraged. However confused he might've been, a part of him wasn't surprised as he assumed who might be leading these men.

He would not be captured easily.

He ducked a fast swing aimed for his head and aimed a hard fist at his attacker's exposed rib. His armor covered only the front of the torso and his back so the prince knew any attacks he made needed to be well struck. He hadn't fought a real fight a day in his life before this but he knew basics from watching most of his father's knights spar in the courtyard. A few had even been generous enough to offer him tips in the event he ever did fall into an actual fight. He was grateful for that right now.

After striking his attacker in the rib, he aimed a hard headbutt to his skull then shoved him off his feet. He could hear a war cry coming up behind him and acting swiftly, Bruce turned and used the attacker's momentum to catch the sneak attack and backdrop him off of his shoulder. Another came at his right and Bruce held his arm out and caught him with an arm across the neck. Through the ensuing fight Bruce could hear Shadowcasts whining loudly in distress for his master.

Another came running and leaped towards him with a jumping kick. Bruce caught a kick to his shoulder sending him falling backwards into the grip of another masked attacker behind him. He held him as if restraining him until Bruce threw his head back and smashed his skull against the restraint. He threw a hard front kick at the one who jumped kicked him in front, then followed up with a swing to the jaw and a tackle to force him down off his feet. Bruce was growing weary of this. If these were the warlock's men he would've shown himself by now to taunt him.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!" He barked at the number of armed soldiers who only stood by watching him.

One of them spoke, still in the same foreign tongue, to another who nodded briskly and rushed towards Shadowcast, to take the reigns. The prince grew apprehensive as he threw another punch to one of the men rising off the ground.

"Shadowcast fly!" He yelled.

Instantly his mare came rushing towards him away. Having practiced this maneuver many times in the last decade, Bruce waited for the right moment and jumped and latched onto the side of his horse then pulled himself onto the saddle. They ride through two of the masked men who are pushed back with painful cries. Bruce reached for his bow and quiver and felt thankful he had chosen to recover the arrows in his earlier practice.

He was a distance away from castle. If he wanted to get back, he would need to get out of the forests and double back along the beach near the lake which was close by. He hadn't fully explored these lands in the past but he felt he had no other choice but do so now lest he found himself a prisoner for whatever purpose these men had planned for him. He could hear their voices in the distance behind him yelling. It wasn't until they grew nearer that he realized they were also on horseback following him.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath as he saw a number of dark shapes closing in on him from behind.

He set his sights ahead and could see the end of the treeline that would take him to the beach. Once he made it to the open space he is again thrown from his horse, this time Shadowcast falls with him. Bruce looked at his horse and saw an arrow lodged into his leg. His horse whined and thrashed his leg. The prince's compassion overrode his sense of urgency.

"Hold on my friend," he said softly as he reached and took a hold of the shaft then pulled it out without pause.

Shadowcast whined and stomped his leg against the ground in pain. Bruce glanced towards the treeline tiredly, knowing he had little time left to make an escape. He could not do that on his steed right now. Other than the logic of Shadowcast being unable to get far on a wounded leg, Bruce didn't wish to risk his life. "Compassion," Bruce chuckled to himself. Something many thought he lacked nowadays.

He pulled his stallion close to him then checked his quiver and bow from the saddle. They were broken in the fall. He shrugged as he surmised his current options. He spotted the old ruins not too far from him. He looked back to his stallion.

"Go home boy. I'll follow as soon as I can."

Shadowcast sputtered in response. A refusal. Bruce growled as he gave him a slap on the side. "GO!"

His stallion took off at a steady gallop down the beach, back towards the treeline. Bruce could hear the distant hooves approaching then turned and made a mad dash towards the old ruins.

* * *

Bruce found a tunnel at the edge of the castle walls covered by overgrown vines that hadn't been cut in what seemed like decades. He didn't know if his pursuers' had exceptional tracking skills but he felt he had the advantage of nightfall. He ventured into the dark tunnel quietly until he could see it was collapsed near the end of it. He felt trapped until he saw a pale beam of light shining down from a crack in the ceiling of the tunnel. The hole was large enough for him to climb up. He felt uncertain until he heard indistinct chatter outside.

"What do they want with me?" He pondered.

He knew for certain these weren't common thieves or kidnappers. The way they dressed, the style and condition of their armor and weapons suggested they were warriors and their skills at tracking meant they were experienced. They wanted him alive, that much he assumed as they might've killed him in their ambush. The prince knew he could only remain elusive and wait for them to wander off from him.

The shuffling of footsteps outside interrupted his musings. Not too far away he could hear horses gathering which meant they were close. He looked back up at the shaft above him and felt he had no other option as he reached up with his bare hands and grabbed a hold of the crumbling rock then climbed up above just as two of the trackers entered the tunnel through the vines and stared in mild confusion at the empty space.

Bruce pulled himself into the nearest dark corner he could find and sat quietly, listening to the deafening silence. It was strange he felt as he could no longer hear his attackers speaking or moving about outside. "Have they given up?" He thought to himself. He dared not move despite his growing anxiety. He took the moment to observe his surroundings, what little he could see of it in the darkness barely illuminated by a pale shaft of moonlight coming from the broken roof. Many floors above him were crumbled to allow the light to come down.

These castle ruins were old and had been abandoned long ago he knew from the various stories Jillana used to tell him as a boy. It once belonged to a noble king that became corrupted by greed and power. He had struck a deal with dark forces in the world which led his own destruction and the doom of his family. Their exact fates remained a mystery especially the king's daughter's who became involved with a man that the king defied. Nothing remained here except very old broken and worn furniture and littered paper and debris.

Vandals and thieves no doubt had cleaned this place out a long time ago. He shrugged angrily at the thought of them. The cold night air was now beginning to get to him and felt frustrated with himself for leaving the castle without a cape or cloak to keep him warm. His royal garments didn't provide much warmth for this type of weather.

Outside it had turned ominously silent and for a moment Bruce felt at ease. Maybe it was safe now? He didn't wish to wait here any longer than he had to. This place reeked of death and misery. He rose to his feet and took slow steps towards a caved in window, careful not to brush any of the debris in the way. He poked his head out and saw nothing except an empty beach. His brow furrowed in confusion until he is taken by surprise when a fist collided with his jaw, sending him falling back onto the floor.

He fell back with a grunt as his vision dazed. The last thing he managed to see was one of his attackers hanging upside down from a suspended rope outside before he hops through the broken window in front of him. The prince's head fell into unconsciousness.

The smell of dirt entered his lungs as Bruce opened his dark green hazel eyes to find himself in a filthy prison cell. The smell of human decay hovered in the air as he shifted his dazed eyes. There were rotting skeletons chained against a wall to the side of him. His bones ached and his flesh smelled of dried mud. His throat burned with thirst and his stomach churned with hunger.

"Where I am?" He thought, looking confused at his surroundings. He remembered falling off of Shadowcast and fighting armored men dressed in black garments. He tried to hide in an old ruin then after that everything went black as an attacker slammed into his chin, which sent him down hard.

The prince looked at his tattered clothing. His royal garments had been stripped and he was left to look like a peasant. The cell door opened and a tall greying haired man entered dressed in black clothing. His piercing blue eyes reminded Bruce of a December sky.

"Ever wonder why the riches of these lands can be found in dark places?" The voice was mellifluous with an accent Bruce had never heard before.

"Why did you bring me here?" The prince growled, showing no weakness in his eyes. "Answer me! Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. You think that your birthright can save you in my territory? Weak men like you do not survive the trials I make them endure." He spoke knowing that Bruce was strong but that he carried much anger. "And I will make you endure Prince of Gotham."

Bruce reacted with frustration as he pulled against his chains. "Show yourself coward." He demanded. "I order you to show yourself!"

"I do not take orders from a lost man."

The man stepped into the sunlight. Bruce's brow furrowed with confusion at the stranger. He was powerfully built and very distinguished looking as his powerful features gleamed in the sunlight. He looked to be a man who had traveled across many places and experienced a life-time of combat. Nevertheless he was still unfamiliar to the prince.

"Who are you?"

"I am merely a servant to justice. I speak for all those who fight corruption and injustice on these harsh lands."

"Rescenters of a lost cause." The prince said with a spiteful tone. "My father spoke of your kind. Master warriors that follow their own codes. Your kind is feared from the underworlds of these lands. Some believe that you are cursed men. Demons."

An amused smirk came over the older man.

"We are feared by the evil that lurks in the shadows. These are dark times. We use theatricality and deception for our noble cause to bring reformation back into the hearts and minds of the weak and innocent."

The man approached the prince and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Your kingdom has not escaped from being noticed. A young man like you can change many things with his actions. I can see in your eyes that you have become truly lost. You feel unfit to rule a kingdom that is so corrupted. You believe that abandoning the throne will spare you from the pain of watching your father's great kingdom crumble at the hands of these evil souls."

Bruce lowered his head to look at the dirty ground.

"I can see in your eyes that you are driven by anger. There is an unsteadiness that courses though your veins Prince of Gotham. You are searching for a purpose that can make you feel worthwhile."

The prince nodded at the concealed point. "Can you..." He paused.

"I am here to offer you a new path on a journey that you will endure. A path of justice and humility. A path of a knight."

"A knight. In shining armor?" The prince laughed. "That is a foolish path. Knights are not noble men. They are cowards that fear death." He spoke bitterly recalling the night his parents were killed and how late help had arrived. He remembered the one who saved him from that monster. Sir Gordon. The prince shrugged. "Perhaps not all of them are," he thought to himself correctly.

"A true knight can become something more than just a figure carrying a sword and shield... If you make yourself pure of heart and devote your body and soul to the those who can not defend themselves. If you endure the battles ahead than you will become something that most knights will envy."

"Which is?"

"A legend."

The man arose and moved to the cell door. "Tonight your training of knighthood begins." He closed the cell door and left the prince in the darkness to contemplate his future.

* * *

On an island across the sea, a Queendom formed on an island of mighty female warriors called the Amazons that had isolated themselves from the evil and corrupted ways of men. It was a hidden land where they could live and practice peaceful ways of life while having the freedom from the hardships of Man's world.

A woman of strength and humility had become queen of this land. She brought forth peace and security for all those who took refuge from the island of "Amazonia" where before they were enslaved by a tyrant called Sera who tricked the queen and seduced her. Years passed and after asking the patron protectors of their lands, the Amazons were forgiven and freed from their chains.

The only part of that life that remained was the silver bracelets they wore around their wrists that was a reminder for the hardships they endured during those dark days.

The Amazons were forced to leave the mainland and hide on an island called Paradise Island. There they established their own realm and laws free from Man's World. Hippolyta became their queen once again and the protector of all those who inhabited the island with the help of her sister Antiope who ruled second over the Queen's affairs.

War had struck the queendom. Blood spilled onto the stone steps of the temples. Many Amazons were slain in battle from Sera's cold blood thirsty lust for power. After the war had ended, and Sera and his army were defeated, there was peace once again on the shores. Hope had been restored as the Amazon's rejoiced for the coming of a princess. A daughter of the Amazon's in which the queen birthed that held both the wisdom and the beauty of the patron protectors of their land.

Her name was Diana which meant "divine".

Years had passed and the Princess of the Amazons had grown into a beautiful young woman, blessed with rich raven hair, bright ocean blue eyes and flawless skin. She was strong both in body and spirit and the greatest warrior on their shores. She was also blessed with a pure heart that showed compassion to the weak and to the animals that roamed in the forest of her queendom.

The Queen taught her everything about the history of the great battles they'd faced while the other Amazon's taught the princess how to hunt, fight and use archery on moving targets. Diana wore two silver bracelets as a symbol of her sisters' past. On rare occasions she would wear her tiara but mostly she would allow her long thick hair to flow off her back as she sparred and traveled across her home.

Hippolyta had always felt troubled as she watched her daughter grow into a nightshade beauty. She desired to be free and see what the outside world had to offer. The Queen knew that Diana was capable of survival and adventure and yet deep down the queen did not want to lose her eldest daughter.

One night that all changed...

Nearly the entire Amazon populace gathered on the sparring grounds, seated like an audience as they watched their two most fierce warriors circle each other with challenging eyes. Among them sat Donna, Queen Hippolyta's youngest daughter, a youthful Amazon of 17 years. She like many of her sisters had come to appreciate these exciting moments when their best tested each others' skills to their limits.

Her sister Diana, who had taken the title of Champion of the Amazons a year ago was going against Artemis, one of their most deadly and fiercest warriors. It was no secret among the ranks that while the two Amazons had a mutual respect and friendship for one another, they also held an unspoken rivalry. Each time they faced was a battle of one-ups-manship between the two warriors.

Now would be no different Donna felt as she watched them continue to the size the other up. Artemis carried a metal bow-staff and Diana a one-handed sword. Like many of their past sparring sessions, Diana and Artemis gave nods of respect before taking their battle stances.

Each sparring session between the two warriors, however inconsequential to some of the more experienced fighters, proved to be a intriguing lesson for ones still honing their skills. Donna herself being one of them. Each time she watched her sister fight she learned something new be it the advantage of a certain weapon in the arsenal or a special tactic to use against an opponent.

Diana wore a two-piece white garment, gold sandals and her bracelets. Her hair was let loose down her back. Artemis dressed in a two-piece red garment with boots and her red hair tied in a tight braid down her back. Both were dressed to provide free movement and mobility.

Donna wearing a white toga, watched as one of her sisters holds a flag in between the two warriors then gives a waive. "Begin!"

Artemis sprung from her battle stance and launched herself into the air towards Diana, staff raised yelling a fierce battle cry. Diana parried the blow with her sword then countered with a kick to the front of Artemis' torso sending her back a few steps.

Giving no pause, Artemis swung her staff aimed for Diana's head. The princess ducked the blow then aimed her sword in a thrust towards Artemis' shoulder. The veteran Amazon dodged the strike and spun backwards, bringing the edge end of her staff against the back of Diana's ankles, sending the younger Amazon off her feet. Diana grunted in surprise, however her many past sparring matches with Artemis taught her to never give pause and she instinctively rolled to the side to avoid a downward thrust of the blade at the end of the redhead's staff.

Artemis was anything but soft in her craft as the force of the blow that would've pierced Diana's shoulder, stabbed into the stone and became trapped. Diana rolled to her feet just as Artemis used her disadvantage to an offense move. Using the top of her staff as a pole vault, Artemis swung sideways around it to aim a front kick towards Diana's face.

Diana side-stepped the attack then drove a vicious side-kick to Artemis' torso. Artemis fell backwards, releasing her still entrapped weapon and rolled backward on her heels. Diana sensing her advantage, sprung at Artemis with a side-ways sweep of her sword. The rules of this contest were simple, to disarm the other opponent by weapon or wound and force them to yield.

Diana's attack was dodged by Artemis at the last moment. Artemis took the initiative and elbowed Diana hard at the knee, forcing her down to a crouching position beside her. Artemis rolled forward and used her powerful strength to pull her metal staff free from the ground and resume her onslaught. Diana arising to her feet, prepared as Artemis began to swing her staff at various points of her body. The princess managed to parry or dodge each blow however Artemis' determination seemed relentless.

Diana knew the redheaded Amazon could be at her most dangerous yet most exposed when she was angry. It wasn't a tactic Diana tried to exploit but it was one that the other Amazon rarely found herself fall into in their sparring matches. Their last sparring session Diana had won by dislocating Artemis' shoulder while the one before that the other Amazon was victorious by forcing the less experienced Amazon to yield beneath her sword. Diana vowed to make Artemis yield this time.

Artemis instead of aiming for Diana's shoulder as before, aimed the end of her staff low towards the front of Diana's feet to sweep her down as she did before. Diana had the move scouted this time as she leaped backwards then surprised the redhead by twirling forward along the length of the staff to drive her forearm to Artemis' face. Artemis growled loudly at the strike and before she could follow up, she is taken off her feet by a low sweep of Diana's leg across the back of her feet.

Artemis fell onto her back and lost her weapon again. Diana rushed at her with her weapon draw. Artemis used Diana's momentum to grab her and flung her overhead with a grappling throw. Diana landed on her back with a small cry, her sword clattered out of reach.

Artemis swiftly rolled onto her stomach and stared at Diana across from her with burning eyes, almost predatory like. Baring her teeth, she rushed at the Amazon unarmed. Diana seeing Artemis charging, prepared herself as they collided in a flurry of punches and grappling holds, both testing their strength as they battled relentlessly.

Artemis grabbed Diana in a bear-like-hug and applied brute strength to her ribs. Diana headbutted the older Amazon, forcing her to release the hold. She followed up by grabbing Artemis around the front of her waist then swung her off to the side in a belly-to-belly suplex to the ground. Their was a loud grunt of pain from both Amazons as they continued their battle. Diana elbowed Artemis across the face then rolled her onto her stomach and reached for her arm.

The other Amazons watched silently, all of them brimming with excitement inside however they held their tongues as to not cheer and serve as a distraction in the fight. Donna however could not help a smirk as she saw Diana force Artemis into an arm-bar hold across her back.

"Submit!" Diana shouted.

"Never!" Artemis growled angrily.

Artemis took a page out of Diana's book by throwing her head backwards and smashed her skull to the princess' brow. Diana was dazed momentarily giving Artemis the opportunity to slip free and regain her feet. Diana shrugged off the blow and regained her sight long enough to see Artemis charging at her for a tackle. Diana waited for the right moment then used Artemis' momentum to catch her by the arm and threw her over her shoulder to the ground below.

It took Diana but a moment to recover her sword nearby, straddle Artemis' waist then pin her down with the point of her blade to the throat.

"Yield," The princess urged with a firm tone.

Artemis glared at the princess with defiant eyes for a moment before they settle into an appraising glint. "Well done, sister. I yield," she conceded with a respectful nod. Diana was amazed by Artemis' praise especially as the rest of the Amazon's began to applaud their contest.

Diana regained her composure and rose to her feet. Artemis followed and the two nod respectfully.

"You've improved Diana. But there is much you still need to learn." Artemis said tersely before picking up her staff to take her leave.

Diana didn't take Artemis' comment offensively, it was merely a nod of encouragement to better hone her skills rather than feel completed by them as there was always more to learn in the matter of combat.

"That was amazing Diana. The bout went faster than the last time you and Artemis faced each other," Donna said as she joined her sister on the sparring ground. In the background the other Amazons are departing from their seats, leaving the two sisters to converse.

"It proved no less exerting little sister," Diana said as she held her side where her fall was sure to leave a bruise. Her skin was coated with sweat and her toned muscles glinted in the sun. She carried the smell of battle.

"You should refresh yourself before the feast tonight. You know how serious Mother can be when we are not presentable at the dinner table."

Diana nodded. "I think I will. Tell her I'll be near the shores if she wishes to speak with me."

"All right. Well you will need your strength. Knowing Artemis she'll be looking for another contest with you soon." Donna said humorously as she turned and left her sister to her thoughts.

Diana smiled faintly at Donna's comment. "Another challenge... Just another day." She thought wearily towards what she now perceived as an endless cycle for her on Paradise Island.

The sun was setting across the horizon as the orange tinted colors reflected into the clouds above the restless waters. Princess Diana sat on her chestnut mare looking onward at the horizon. Her soul was craving for new discoveries away from this world that she had only known for the last 20 years. She heard of far off places, other kingdoms full of wondrous treasures and sights that she could only imagine.

The sound of hoofs echoed from behind as the queen rode up beside her eldest daughter on her white mare Staren, the queen of all horses on this land.

"My little sun and stars I sense that you are having troubled thoughts?" Hippolyta offered, looking concerned.

Diana turned her head and looked at her mother. "Do you ever wish that you could escape from this island mother? Go far beyond the sea and see the world in all it's glory."

"I've seen enough of that world. There is nothing out there my daughter. Only corruption, bloodshed and men." She admonished.

Diana looked at her with question. "Men?"

Hippolyta shrugged. "Why are you concerned about kingdoms that we have no part of my daughter?"

Diana lowered her stare, feeling timid. "I do not know mother. I guess I wish to have my freedom?"

The Queen narrowed her eyes. "Freedom? What you want is not out there. All you will discover is hardships and cruelty. This is your home my daughter. It is where you belong."

Diana shook her head. "No mother. I want adventure, somewhere beyond these white shores. I will not accept that the outside world is beyond repair until I see it for myself." She declared.

"Who has placed these dreams in your head?" Hippolyta asked with a disheartened frown.

"No one mother. They are my dreams. I want to have my freedom."

"Your freedom will cost you."

"You're wrong mother. I am sorry if I have offended you. I need to see the world with my own eyes. I cannot stay here."

"Diana you are a Champion of the Amazons. You are the Princess of this Island and the heir to the throne. It is your duty to remain on our shores and fulfill those obligations. Now come back to the palace we have a feast to prepare for and not a word to your sister Donna. The last I need is to have two daughters with dreams of Man's World."

Princess Diana watched her mother ride off as she dismounted her horse and ran to the edge of the shore, her bare feet touched the cool water as her heart soared with dreams of having a different life. Somewhere where she could make a difference.

A shape caught her attention in the distance. A ship with sails moving slowly through the waves. Her eyes gazed at the ship brightly. "It's a sign." She replied with a smile. "My destiny to leave this island."

She figured that there was ship's port nearby. All she needed was a map and boat that could take her to the port.

There was an Amazon that could take her away from this land. A former captain of the the Queen's Guard named Alkyone who was exiled from the palace guards after defying the queen's orders by entering Man's World.

Some of the Amazon's told the princess that Alkyone once nearly took her from the palace. She believed Diana to be acursed and plotted to either kill her or leave her in Man's World far from the Queen's reach. Hippoltya protected her child and imprisoned Alkyone for her heartless crime.

Diana climbed back onto her horse and rode down the shoreline heading in the direction of the forest where she would find the one Amazon that could give her freedom.

Nightfall had come to the shores as Diana walked through the dark forest with her eyes alert for any danger that was forming around her. She found a cave and entered, calling out the rogue Amazon's name.

"Alkyone," She blared, peering at a bond fire in the middle of the cave.

"So you have come to judge me for my past sins princess?" Alkyone hissed. "My intentions were just. I was acting in the best interests of my sisters but your mother would not allow it. Why are you here?"

Diana moved closer to the fire and sat on the rocky ground with a nonthreatening posture. "I want to leave the island."

Alkyone looked at her, stunned. "Why would you do that? You are the princess. Hippolyta's heir!" She snarled at her conclusion.

Diana ignored her petty retort. "I know. I just wish to see Man's World for what it really is Alkyone. And I need you to take me there."

"What you are asking princess cannot be done."

"I have seen a ship heading to one of the ports that is further out to sea. I know that you have maps."

Alkyone shook her head. "I have done enough harm to the queen and by helping her daughter run away..." She let her head fall slightly against the wall, morbidly contemplating the consequences of helping the princess escape.

Diana could see the Amazon's turmoil. "I will come back. I just want..."

"You want to see what the real world is like. I do not blame you for that knowing that you have only read books in the tower of solitude."

"I will pay you in gold if you can get me to one of the ports?"

Alkyone shook her head with a frown. "I do not want your gold... I want to come with you. To have a new life."

The rogue Amazon concluded that helping the princess escape would mean a death sentence if Hippolyta learned of her hand in it. She did not wish to risk having her head on a pike, and the chance at freedom was better than this life of exile and imprisonment.

Diana nodded in agreement. "Then it is settled. We leave tonight."

"You know that you are going against your mother's laws?"

"I know." Diana arose. "My mother has never approved of anything I do."

"Hippolyta is very protective over you and Donna. Like all mothers. You are old enough to make choices without her."

Diana considered this knowing that she would leave her kingdom without saying goodbye to her family. If she told Donna, her sister would likely try to convince her not to go or worse tell her mother before she could act and Diana did not wish to put her sister in such a position where her loyalties would be brought into question. Now was her best chance to leave.

"There is a boat waiting at the docks. If we hurry we can make it before dawn." Diana said before leaving the cave while Alkyone gathered what little she could bring with her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_10 years ago...  
_

_Lightning flashed outside of their small cottage that was surrounded by the thick forest outside the kingdom of Gotham. A sense of dread had come over them as she paused and looked down at her blonde haired child with brown eyes and curved lips. When he smiled it made her feel happy._

_ Being happy was not a common thing in the household._

_ Thunder boomed and shook the walls of the house as the boy dug his head into her chest and she stroked his hair._

_ "It is alright my little darling Jackin." Jaquelin whispered to him. "There is nothing to be afraid. For thunder is just a natural part of this world."_

_ "Why is the noise so scary mother?"_

_ His soft voice was reveled in fear and it made Jaquelin's heart ache. Her son carried a cheerful and vibrant heart that could be used to bring laughter and joy to the almost everyone he encountered. Almost everyone. It was her job to to not only love and nurture him, but to make sure that spark of life remained inside of him. _

_ "I have an idea lets play the glad game. You think of something good and I will think of something good. Together we will be happy and the storm will seem more tamed to us." She offered. _

_ Jack nodded. "I'm glad that..." His brown eyes glanced around the cottage walls. "That I am safe with you mother."_

_ Jaquelin smiled her crimson lips adoringly. "I am glad that I have you as my little boy."_

_ The wooden door swung open and in walked the man of the house. An Irish drunk that gambled his wage and embarrassed his own pride by using his clothes at every game and walking home in the cold bare. Tonight he had his clothes on but his expression was hardened by the intake of drink he enjoyed all the hours he was at the pub._

_ "Woman come here and give me a kiss." He ordered with a slurred tone. "Come' ere..." His accent was harsh as his tongue licked his lips._

_ Jaquelin arose from the chair and placed Jack on the ground in front of the fireplace. She walked to her husband apprehensively and he grabbed her arms and pulled her close to his chest. "Kiss me my little lady..." He drawled. _

_ Jack watched his parents uncomfortably. _

_ "Please Shamus not in front of our son." She urged. _

_ Shamus' eyes turned venomous. _

_ "Do not give me orders little woman. I'm the one that works his arse off to feed this family. I deserve respect!" He snarled. _

_ Shamus walked to the fireplace and stood before his nine year old son who was smiling, hoping to cheer his father up as he contemplated a humorous jest he wanted to share with him._

_ "What are you smiling about laddy?" Shamus growled with his deep accent. "You have nothing to be happy about."_

_ "Well, Mother says..."_

_ "Never mind what your mother says... I am your father. I will not have a son working his wage as a would-be court jester for the good king of this land. In case you'd forgotten boy, the king is dead!" He roared angrily. _

_ Jack remained silent as his father looked him over with a contemptuous look. "Not that he would care for your petty jests were he still alive. What good would your foolish dreams now hold? Hmm?" He cocked his head condescendingly, his eyes glazed from the amount of ale he'd consumed. _

_ Jack lowered his eyes while his mother stared at Shamus with a hurtful look. _

_ "You will be a swordsman or a Gotham Knight, not a fool whose purpose is to make other fools laugh at unfunny gestures." Shamus continued. _

_ Jack's expression changed into a saddened frown. Shamus laughed and grabbed his son by the scuff of his garment. "What's wrong eh..." He mocked. "Why so serious laddy?"_

_ Jaquelin had enough. "That is enough Shamus. You are being too harsh with our son, and you're intoxicated." She admonished. _

_ "I will not have a clown as a son!" He spat. _

_ She looked at Jack. "Jack it's time to get ready for bed. Early morning rising comes early."_

_ Jack nodded solemnly. "Yes, mother." He gave his mother a hug and looked to his small room. He closed the door and crawled into a small straw mattress bed and listened to the sounds that he'd grown used to. The sound that put him to sleep. His mother screaming and shouting with her Irish temper. His father beating her up with his iron fists._

* * *

Hidden into the mountain pass...

One month later...

Bruce Wayne awoke to the clatter of approaching bootsteps outside his given quarters and as each morning he'd heard the impending noise, he rose to a sitting position off his straw bed and waited. The noise grew closer until he heard a lock turn and then the door opened far enough for a single guard to enter and face him.

"Training in ten minutes" His rugged voice carried authority that left no room for argument. "Downstairs, get dressed!" He spat.

The Prince of Gotham glared daggers at him as he spared a glance from the masked face of his "guard" then to the sword sheathed at his side. It had been a month, almost two. A month since he was taken from his kingdom, plucked from his home like cattle waiting to be slaughtered. Despite everything his "gracious" host had told him that day he awoke in a dungeon, Bruce felt he was clearly a prisoner with benefits rather than a valued recruit.

His guard, Anton, a Slavic warrior, carried no love or respect for royalty as he proved to be quite aggressive with his charge each morning and night as he escorted him from his cell. Bruce recalled the first escape attempt he'd made to get past Anton. He was left with a broken nose for weeks. The injury was of no consequence to his host who insisted Bruce continue his training while lecturing him on the futility of escaping at his current skill level.

It appeared his host not only wanted to train him, but discipline him - in the most brutal way possible. Bruce sized up his guard across from him with scrutiny. He was a well-built man, early thirties, with the stealth of a cat and the ruthlessness of a panther.

"Do I not get to break my fast?" The prince asked tiredly.

"Ten minutes! Ducard awaits!" Anton barked as he turned and strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

The prince shrugged as he lowered his face into his hands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't realize until he'd come here how it felt to be seen as a common man, a common soldier in the company of warriors and assassins. Living the pampered life of a prince however entrapping it felt, he was at least comfortable. Now though he just felt simply "trapped".

He released a shaky breath as he rose to his feet, dressed only in his undergarments. He began donning his black breeches, leather black boots and a cream-colored tunic on top of it. He contemplated performing the morning ritual that Ducard had set for him, but knew it would only make him late for his training. He spared a glance outside the small, barred window to his quarters and could see a gentle snow fall coming down outside.

His mind was tempted to remember the more pleasant memories of his childhood, playing with Rachel in the courtyard, listening to Jillana's stories, being carried on his father's back through the snowy arches... He shook his head to clear his mind of days long past and best forgotten. If there was one thing that his captors respected it was strength and fortitude. If he wanted to make it easier for himself here, he needed to meet their standards especially if he hoped to make it out of here one day.

He allowed only one thought of Alfred to reach him. His loyal friend and guide who, for all the prince could imagine, believed him to be dead. He sighed as he fastened a leather belt around his waist and approached his cell door. He knocked once on it, loudly, which prompted Anton to open the door and Bruce followed a step beside him down a torch-lit hallway of stone and silence.

"The men have wagered you won't survive the winter. I wagered you won't last the month." Anton's voice was taunting and scornful.

Bruce spared a small glance at him through the corner of his eye.

"I shall prove you wrong." He muttered.

* * *

The temperature was below freezing as light ice rain fell across the steep slope of a snow covered mountain range. Every part of the frozen wasteland, that's what the young prince would call it, was covered in sheets of ice.

Twenty two year old, Bruce formerly known as the Heir of Gotham, stood on a ledge of the abandoned fortress staring blankly at nothing as images of his parents murder haunted his mind.

All he could see was that cloaked stranger placing his boney hands on the queen's - his mother's - neck and her flawless flesh turn to cold stone in front of him. Anger was imbedded into the his dark hazel eyes as his cheeks felt the cold of ice.

A tear threatened to escape him as his mother's last words echoed in his mind, "I love my son..."

He lowered as he just stood there with his arms folded, feeling the weight in his shoulders.

Driven by hatred and guilt.

Henri Ducard stood beside him looking outward to the mountains.

"You carry a heavy burden within your heart." Ducard assessed. "I also see the torment in your eyes, Bruce. Do you still feel that your parents death was your fault?" He tone offered neither comfort nor incrimination.

Bruce looked onward with a saddened expression. "My anger outweighs the inner guilt that I carry." He stated with remorse.

"Yet you remain secretive to your own will."

Bruce shot his mentor a grim look. "I cannot rule my father's kingdom... not when I have this burning rage inside me. My father taught me that a good king must not show any weakness nor be driven by selfish desires. He must be wise and vigilant. Things that I am not in the eyes of the people of Gotham."

In saying those truthful words, Bruce thought about his childhood, Rachel and Alfred. How they spent all those dark years standing by his side trying to bring some encouragement to him and his duties as the heir of his father. He had become very bitter with his feelings towards his cherished friends.

Bruce was not ready to fulfill the obligations of his birthright to wear the crown and rule over the people who thought in their eyes he was unfit to rule. He knew there was corruption and injustice in the hearts and minds of the people including the High Council.

Inside his very heart the young man that witnessed a terrible crime felt utter guilt for abandoning the throne. He knew that his parents would be ashamed of him.

Ducard was getting a clearer understanding of the young prince. He placed his hand firmly on Bruce's shoulder. "Come, for you have much to learn."

Bruce turned around slowly and then walked away, an unchanged expression on his sharp featured face. His deep set almond shaped eyes looked down at his boots as he began to walk down the steps.

Ducard followed him with a challenge in his ice blue eyes.

* * *

The next day Herni Ducard led the young prince into a small section of the castle where a Shadow knight was pouring potions into small glass rounded jars, while another one was mixing the compounds. Bruce showed his fascination in his dark eyes as he peered at the greyish powder.

Ducard takes a pinch of the potion and threw it to the floor boards. Bang. It exploded, sounding like thunder and a haste of smoke appeared. Bruce flinched, feeling uneasy with the new discovery.

"Our techniques employ many elements." Ducard spoke in a soft tone.

The young prince felt curious. "As weapons for combat?"

"Or distractions. Theatrically and deceptions can become powerful allies in battle."

Ducard placed the greyish powder in Bruce's palm. "To be a great knight is not enough. You have skills but you are still made of flesh and blood. One jab to the heart can destroy you. To succeed in battle you must become something elusive in the mind of your opponents. More than just a man in armor."

Bruce listened to the words of his teacher. He threw the powder onto the floorboards and watched the smoke appear.

"This is magic?" Bruce questioned. "You use magic elements as weapons?"

Ducard nodded.

"We become one with the elements. Shadows, moonlight and the wind. They are all a part of our commitment to justice. Soon you will learn how to work with these elements and know their purpose."

Bruce peered at the shadows around him. "Do men fear the shadows?"

"Men fear what they can not see."

In hearing those words Bruce thought about his parents murderer dressed in a cloak. He remember seeing the stranger use the cloak to disappear.

"Fear is an emotion that can take hold of one's soul when in pain or the threat of danger. The most common fears that people in these lands are cursed with is the fear of ghosts and the existence of evil powers."

Bruce folded his arms skeptically. "Evil powers?"

"The dark arts are real Bruce. It is a common thing that lurks into the forest of these lands. The worshipers of witchcraft use it to strike terror into those who cross their paths. Some people are killed and some become are enslaved with the curses that are bought forth upon them."

Ducard guided Bruce to a long table were food was prepared for them. They both sat down. "To become a member of the Shadows at first you must gain strength in both in your body and the mind. Those are your greatest weapons to use during battle."

Bruce looked at the roasted pork, boiled carrots and potatoes that were placed in front of him. It had been three days since he had eaten anything that was full of taste and not watered down. He was hesitant at first for he still felt like a captive.

Maybe it was to due with the fact that his rich silk garments were replaced with the rags of a peasant and his face was full of grime.

"What is wrong are you not hungry Bruce?" Ducard implied sipping a goblet of red wine. "You must have meat on those bones. That's the only way you will survive the training drills."

Bruce picked up the leg of pork and began to indulge. The juice dripped down throat as he closed his eyes and tasted the sweet juices of the meat.

A bald headed appeared from the shadows of the room and stood behind Ducard with a stern expression.

"You speak of the dark arts that you have witnessed being practiced?" Bruce finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"I have seen things that you would dare not to witness Bruce. Horrors beyond any reasoning. I know how mighty kings can fall by one fatal act of deception." Ducard revealed ominously.

"Explain." Bruce ordered.

Ducard scoffed at him. "Understand this, you do not give the orders around here young prince. I do. You are my captive I could spike your drink and poison you to death should I decide you are a failure and unworthy of my time."

Bruce looked at the goblet. His eyes widened. Ducard smirked, feeling his point had been made. Despite Ducard's pleased demeanor, Bruce felt a crawling suspicion began to settle within him as he thought of his "mentor's" threat. He stowed the thought away as he saw Ducard studying him thoughtfully.

"You have seen the ruins of the castle that are beyond the forest of Gotham. It was once a striving kingdom a long time ago with a good nature king that was very old and unwise. He knew that his time for ruling was almost at an end and yet he had no child to take over the throne. One day his prayers were answered and a daughter was born. A princess and she grew up to be a noble and beautiful fair maiden that was adored by many. Fate had a different future ahead."

"What became of the princess? My nurse maid told me stories that she fell in love with an unwanted man that defiled everything her father stood for."

"The princess fell in love with a knight but also the son of a witch. The king forbade his daughter to court the young knight. She refused and went against her father's wishes. When the king finally discovered the truth he was outraged and locked his daughter into a tower. He made a law that no one could touch or gaze at his daughter. Until the stranger made a deal. He sold his soul to the darkness and became powerful. One night the princess was captured from her bedroom chambers and taken to a hiding place where she was given a new chance of freedom."

"What is the point of this tale?" Bruce asked.

"The princess' chance of freedom had dire consequences. The king became ill and died."

"The princess?"

"She was lost forever."

Ducard arose from the table. "With no rightful heir to a throne a kingdom will fall and crumble as if it never existed."

He turned and left the prince to finish his meal, and contemplate his thoughts.

* * *

In the Kingdom of Gotham a great wage of conversation and silent whispers lurked behind the stone walls of Castle Wayne. The curtains were closed to block out the sunlight as Alfred a noble man of honor and service to the royal family crept down the stone stairs with a candle in his hand.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him as he turned and saw the Captain of the Gotham Knight's standing behind him without armor wearing the crest of the kingdom on his left side that was stitched into linen.

"Captain Gordon," Alfred said in a low tone. "I trust that you are prepared for the council meeting?"

The captain nodded. "To tell you the truth, I think we are going against the good king's wishes. Seeking another body to sit on the throne." His tone revealed his remorse towards the situation. It had little to do with placing another person on the throne.

Alfred nodded in kind, sensing the captain's dismay. He was after all, the one who had saved the boy from near death 13 years ago. Both men felt a measure of guilt from his disappearance.

"Aye, but the prince is no longer with us. Without a rightful ruler this land would result to madness and destruction. If not a risk of civil war between noble families vying for the throne, Gotham will likely be attacked by our enemies if they find us leaderless. We cannot take that risk."

Gordon looked perplexed despite the old adviser's words of wisdom. "What do you believe?"

Alfred was silent for a moment. Day and night he pondered the fate of his charge - his prince - since the night his horse arrived without its rider bearing only a broken bow and quiver of arrows. The horse itself was wounded suggesting an ambush. The Gotham Knights and the Kingsguard searched day and night along the shores and the forests and found no sign of him.

The old adviser knew that while his master lacked the discipline and the dedication of his father, there was no denying his spirit. He had hope, he had faith his master would find his way back to them wherever he may be now.

"I believe that the prince will return. For I know that he is not dead. That boy is too stubborn to die."

Gordon smiled as they entered through the wooden doors leading to the great hall where the council was seated at a long table. William Earle sat at the head of the table with a sneer on his distrusting face as a young woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes sat next to him with a blonde haired child that was a bit round in the face.

Alfred could tell by the manners of the boy this he was spoiled and rotten to the core. Unworthy to wear the crown. He observed the adviser and the captain with a cold sneer as if assessing their usefulness.

"Alfred, I am glad to see that you care to join us." William greeted them with a condescending tone.

Alfred sat into a chair and looked at the mother and child. They stared back at him blankly. The mother looked slightly amused dare he say smug, and the child just looked vacant. Alfred gave them no show of acknowledgment after as he turned his attention to William.

"Now as you know the prince is dead. It has been a month."

"You can not make those assumptions William." Alfred blared in defense. "The young prince could be very much alive as a captive. We should not rule him out yet. It is not the wishes of the the king."

"The king is dead." William answered. "So is the son." He looked at the child. "It is time for an new era." He pointed to the boy. "An era without Wayne's rule or lack thereof."

"No body has been found. There is no evidence of his demise, how can you be certain of his death?" Alfred shot back, with a calm tone, knowing that intemperance in this matter wouldn't gain him support.

William glared at him silently. Despite his fixed expression, Alfred knew he was forming another excusable response. The council member shrugged. "Dead or not, he isn't here. He hasn't been here for months and Gotham needs a sovereign ruler. Its been too long without one."

Alfred bit his lip and looked at the boy. "He is merely a child. Not at the right age to rule this kingdom."

The mother shot him a disturbing look with her green eyes. "My son shares the blood of kings noble servant. He has been preparing for this his whole life. Isn't that right my Brannon?" She asked with an English accent.

The boy nodded briskly. "Yes mother."

William looked at the members, assessing their approval. All but Alfred and the Knight Captain looked convinced. "So it is decided at the time of the winter solace if the prince does not return. Brannon will become the suitor of the throne."

The members nodded in agreement.

"Prince Bruce has four months to reclaim his kingdom. If he fails to do so than he will be declared dead. On the eve of the beginning of the solace, Brannon will be declared the rightful heir to the throne. If the prince does return from the dead after, he'll have no stake in reclaiming the throne."

"You cannot do this!" Captain Gordon shouted. "He is the son of the king. I demand a larger contingent of men to help me sweep the countryside and further beyond to locate him."

William shook his head. "Four months. That is all he has and yourself as well for the matter. You have men, use them accordingly, but do not pass Gotham's jurisdiction." He ordered.

Gordon shrugged. He had men, there was no denying it. But they weren't men he could trust, not all of them. The familiar feeling of guilt returned to the Knight Captain as he remembered that sorrowful night he saved the boy from his parents' murderer. The man - that demon - promised that he would return for the boy someday, and Gordon feared that day had passed. If nothing else, Gordon swore to find the demon responsible and banish him from this world if he couldn't find the prince.

He was certain it wouldn't alleviate his guilt in the matter however.

He and the council watched as Brannon arose from his chair and walked over to the fireplace. "I believe that the prince deserves a chance." He spoke in a mature tone for a moment.

"Prince Bruce has until my birthday to come back to the kingdom. If he fails to arrive at the time of my party and comes later than I will deal with him in the ways of justice."

Alfred arose from the table, having heard enough of this banter. "The prince will return in the darkest of the night."

He walked out through the doors. The woman at the table smirked at his departure.

* * *

Inside a horse's stall in the back of a pub near the Gotham Bay. A group of Gotham Knight's stand around the lifeless corpse of a woman and peer at the Glasgow cuts on her pale blue cheeks. Blood dripped from her lips as Captain Gordon moved in closer and looked at the female corpse with wry eyes. Around him stand a small contingent of his men, all dressed in their armor, some wearing helms.

The Gotham Knight's captain shook his head, wearing a troubled frown.

"Cover the body." He ordered with a puzzled look as he recalled seeing similar abrasions once before. A long time ago.

It was a stormy night as he was called out into the middle of the night to investigate the murder of a former Gotham Knight that dishonored the code of chivalry of what the Knight's stood for both to the king and also to the people that lived in the small villages.

"Sir," One of the Knights spoke forwardly to the captain. "Where do you want us to bring the body?"

Gordon rubbed his temples. "Take the body to the undertaker."

"Yes, sir."

Gordon addressed three of his men. "The rest of you spread out, see if there were any witnesses, and if anyone saw someone suspicious around this area." He ordered.

"Aye, captain." The men nod obediently and turn to carry out their task.

As two Gotham Knight's covered the body with a shroud and placed it on the back of a wagon they'd commandeered, Gordon remained in the stalls with troubled eyes as he watched the evening sky come in.

He remembered entering a small cottage in the early morning, darkness still lingering around him and two of his men. What they found inside was... nightmarish and tragic. A boy sitting in the corner, blood covered his face, small sadistic giggles escaped his throat while in front of him laid two bodies. Dead. There was the grin on his pale face with no empathy in his brown eyes. Just madness.

_The boy was kneeling down next to the lifeless body of his father. No tears rolled down his face. No trembling lips, just a absent look in his eyes as his lips formed into a small smile._

_ "Know what I'm glad about father," The boy spoke with a cheerful yet devilish tone. "I'm glad that you're dead."_

_ He laughed madly as he arose and moved into the forest. Never to be heard of again._

Since then Gordon had troubled thoughts about what the nine year old child had witnessed and his whereabouts. His men had pursued him of course into he forests but found no sign of him. His tracks were difficult to find in the darkness and when dawn arrived, his trail had gone cold when they'd set themselves to follow. Gordon looked at the dead body being taken away and felt Gotham had much more to worry about now aside from their missing prince.

_Peering through a key hole of his bedroom door, Jack sat there watching his father beat his mother with his bare hands. Heavy blows to the jaw areas and then pushes her to the own. Jaquelin did not say a word. She acted like a slave of oppression and menace. _

_ Jack's small hands began to clench into tight fists. _

_ Shamus pinned her to the ground and started to strip her clothing. Silent tears rolled down her soft cheeks as she felt the pain, uncleanness and remorse for her drunken husband. _

_ "Now I'm going to teach you some respect." Shamus spoke as his hand wrapped around her throat._

_ Jack watched his mother's hand reach for a small blade on the wooden table. Her last line of defense. She jabbed it into her husband's back. It was not enough to kill him as he hissed loudly in pain. He reached with both hands and began to strangle Jaquelin. _

_ Jack opened the door and screamed at his father. "Get away from her!"_

_ His dad glared him down and overpowered him with his arms as Jack attempted to pull his hands off his mother. Shamus shoved ** to the ground and snarled at him. "You want something to laugh about laddy. I'll give you something to laugh about."_

_ Shamus pulled out the knife from his shoulder and jabbed it into Jaquelin's chest. Jaquelin released a loud gasp as her body stilled. It was the worst and most horrific sound Jack had heard in his life. _

_ "There now laugh you fool. Laugh for daddy." Shamus taunted him. _

_ Jaquelin with her last breath, turned and stared at her son with a remorseful look before her gaze went vacant. Jack stared with wide, unblinking eyes as a storm of malice and hatred entered his body at the realization of his loss. Memories of past cruelty entered his mind of being taunted by other children, mocked by his father. It was funny sometimes, he appreciated a good jest. But his mother... his mother made him happy, made him feel loved and this... Was. Not. Funny. _

_ "That's not funny." He thought to himself. _

_ Jack looked down at his dead mother then turned his absent eyes towards his father. He lunged for her body and pulled out the knife. His mind had snapped. Shamus was ready to break his neck. Jack acted on animal instinct and jabbed the knife right into his father's stomach._

_ Shamus this time gasped and he stared at his son with a bewildered look, stunned by his nerve. He said nothing but croaked as Jack wedged the knife in, forcing his father to the floor. _

_ Jack watched the blood drip from the mouth of his tormenter with a deranged smile. "Why so serious Daddy?" _

_ He pressed the knife harder and looked into the eyes of his dying father. For as long as he could remember this man inflicted misery and fear on him while he in turn only wanted to cheer his father up and have him smile and laugh at his jests. He would see to it he did would not pass on without granting him that small gesture. _

_ "Let's put a smile on that face." He hissed. _

_ Shamus rolled onto his back as his son pulled out the carving knife and sat on his chest laughing as he took the blade and carved the sharp edge into his father's cheeks. "Clown father? To me you are the clown." He laughed sadistically. _

A scarred faced man, dressed in a ragged purple cloak, stood in the shadows with the moonlight shining over him. His hood was drawn up over his head as he stood next to a withered tree. He glanced at Gordon emerging from the stables. With a devilish sneer he released a small chuckle. While disappearing in the thick trees he dropped a small image of a court jester in a puddle of muddy water.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Away in the mountains...

The cold November wind blew across Bruce's face as he walked into the courtyard where the clashing of steel echoed in the air. All around him, men sneered in his direction, some openly, others secretly as he made his way through them.

A month ago the prince had been wary but mostly unsettled by their cold and aggressive eyes. When he used to venture through the streets of his own kingdom, he had experienced this form of disdain in the eyes of his own people, but then he had carried a small sense of security in the fact it was a situation he could escape and defend himself from. For the last month he undertook pain and open cruelty that made him almost miss those contemptuous glares from his own people.

That was a month ago. By now he had grown to endure if not ignore the poisonous looks from the other men here. He paused in his stride as he took the moment to observe his surroundings. The castle was old, at least five centuries, yet despite its longevity, its bricks and structure appeared no less potent as if it were built only recently. It stood high but hidden in the shadow of the mountain overpass it was built into. He stood in the courtyard where all around him, men and women who he had come to know as "The League of Shadows", went about their daily routines of exercising, training and sparring.

Behind him, Bruce could smell the pot of stew brewing under the outdoor archway connected to the entrance. Rows of benches were being occupied by men eating their breakfast or resting from their training. The aroma made Bruce's stomach rumble with hunger. He had come downstairs with only five minutes to eat whatever he was served. Right now that small bowl only made him hungrier. He growled as he wandered further into the courtyard, away from the smell as he searched out his trainer.

Around him, the slow snowfall continued its gentle descent and the cloudy, grey morning sky gave it a haunting feeling. He spared a glance at the stone ledge of the courtyard which stood a few dozen feet from the rocks below where a frozen lake resided. The main pass into the courtyard - into the castle - was by a small gravel road that went up the edge of the mountain, leading into the courtyard and in turn, into the castle. The area was very expanse and organized that Bruce was able to find his way through.

He didn't need to spare a glance over his shoulder to know Anton was following a fair distance behind him, making sure he made no efforts to either seize a weapon and attack or try to sneak away to make a daring escape. Bruce was annoyed by his company the month he'd been here, even more so after suffering a broken nose, but now like all the men here, he learned to ignore him and take his insults in stride. It was almost the same with the female fighters here. Some leered at him, others spat insults. He paid them no heed.

If there was one thing that amazed Bruce however about these men and women was their various backgrounds. They came and were recruited from different corners of the world, some from England, France, Norway, Greece, Constantinople, Shanghai and Rome. All these fighters came from different backgrounds, carried different religions and spoke different languages yet they were united under one man: Ra's al Ghul.

Bruce cast a glance to the large balcony of the castle where he could see the man himself standing regal, overlooking his numbers with attentive eyes. If these men and women were demons, Bruce surmised Ra's would be "the Demon's Head." He met him only once briefly before he began his training. Ducard made the formal introductions and the prince's defiance at the time earned him a humiliating beating at the hands of his men. Apparently it was Ra's decision that they recruit the elusive Prince of Gotham to their ranks. For whatever reason, Bruce wasn't entirely certain of except for Ducard's promise of legendary knighthood.

Henri Ducard. Bruce wasn't sure what to make of the man except that he seemed to be Ra's al Ghul's right-hand man that kept all of these men in line with each other. Since being taken under his tutorship, in addition to combat training, Ducard had taught Bruce a number of different languages to help him better communicate and understand the men around him. In his earlier years, Bruce had already been taught a few languages as apart of his studies a prince and a future king so he was a quick learner under Ducard's teachings.

Thinking of his mentor, Bruce spotted him at the distant corner of the courtyard. He stood tall with his hands folded behind his back, watching the men across from him perform their exercises in front of a shroud of trees. The men were all dressed in black garments with masks covering all but their eyes. In their hands they carried jokoto swords as they performed slow and graceful swings of their blades. Bruce took the moment to appreciate the inspiring sight as they moved with calm and discipline. The slow snowfall gently falling over them gave the sight a calm and serene look.

They continued their exercises, ignoring Bruce's presence, as Ducard yelled instructions to them in a language the prince identified as "Japanese". Bruce and his mentor watched them silently. The prince knew enough to realize that his training came in many forms. Right now he was to watch and study the grace of combat.

Bruce studied their physiques and felt slightly indignant as he gazed down at his own form. He weighed close 190 pounds when he had first arrived here a month ago. He was abashed to admit but his period of inaction after his parents' death had left his body in a state of incapability as far as physical strength and stamina in combat. He learned just as much when he was beaten effortlessly by Ra's men. Since then Ducard had fed him constantly to build up his mass. Bruce weighed well past 230 pounds now.

As if sensing his protege's insecurity, Ducard nodded his head. "Its necessary for your training. Your long period of inactivity has made your muscles stiff and your energy low."

Bruce sighed loudly, his breath forming on the air. "I don't need to hear this lecture again. You sound just like my adviser." He scolded.

"And you still sound like a man who thinks he knows better because of his wealth and title." Ducard shot back calmly.

Bruce glared at him through the corner of his eye but chose not to respond to his retort. His eyes took in the sight far off from the left of the courtyard where a group of female assassins are practicing their archery. He noticed their teacher was missing.

"They train without their instructor?"

Ducard turned left and saw his student's question. He lowered his gaze momentarily without Bruce noticing. "Talia has been sent on an assignment towards Romania. She won't be back for many months to come."

Bruce nodded absently. Talia was Ducard's daughter, a female assassin whose eye he caught the moment he was presented to Ra's. However the fact she was an attractive women and a fighter who seemed infatuated with him, Bruce thought it best to keep his distance. He wasn't here to make friends and least of all lovers. He wasn't sure what Ducard himself thought of his daughter's interest in him, if he objected or approved, he never showed it to him, and Bruce never questioned him either.

What annoyed the prince however was the fact he was being treated as an ignorant pup who didn't know the first thing about swordplay. Granted he wasn't a master swordsman like most of the men here, but he knew enough to say his training should be pushed to wielding one. As of now, he was being taught basic hand-to-hand combat which he felt was beneath his skill level. Even the female recruits were allowed free practice with the number of swords and weapons offered to them.

He felt at this rate he would be a "recruit" here forever if they were intent on slowing his training towards knighthood. Bruce never felt so eager to return home after being here a month. It wasn't out of fear for himself... but for his kingdom, for Alfred and Rachel.

If they believed him dead, the kingdom could already be raging with civil war between noble families playing suitors for the throne. It wouldn't be long before the council would stop searching for him and appoint someone else as the heir to the throne. Bruce never really asked his mother, father or Alfred but he suspected he might have distant relatives; cousins to his mother or father who might turn up in his absence to assert a claim to the throne in the matter of the line of succession.

He didn't know. At that made him all the more impatient in his captivity.

"You fear for your homeland." Ducard said suddenly as if reading his student's thoughts.

Bruce stared at him, slightly perturbed. Could he read minds? He shook his head as he maintained an unfazed posture. He kept his gaze on the recruits ahead of them. "They'll be better off without me." He commented dryly.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not, but a man as distracted as yourself wouldn't be without cause."

"You think me desperate to get home?"

"You don't seem eager to remain here. If not to go home, why do you seek freedom?"

Bruce sighed loudly. "I'm not free, neither at home nor here."

"You've not yet answered my question Bruce. Why do you wish to leave?" He asked gravely.

Bruce remained silent as he watched the recruits. He carried an answer to Ducard's question but it was one he was uncertain of in the matter of its merit and success.

"To rid the dark forces and corruption that has wormed its way into my kingdom... To fight injustice."

Ducard smirked at his response, though their was no humor in his expression. "Then you are fool." He said scornfully.

Bruce glared at him with an affronted look. "You dare insult me and my intentions for the good of my kingdom?!" He growled.

Ducard held up his left hand and snapped his finger. Instantly, Bruce felt a crushing blow strike the side of his head, sending him tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain. Anton stood above him with an amused look while Ducard held his back to him.

"Yes, you are fool to think you can carry on such a task without my aid! Without the proper skills to even defend yourself let alone your own people!" He retorted as he slowly turned to stare down at him, arms still crossed behind his back.

Ducard nodded his head at Anton who immediately sprang into action and jumped down to deliver a falling fist towards Bruce's face. The prince swiftly rolled aside and dodged the blow. Anton's fist connected with the stone floor and he grunted back a cry. Bruce, on his heels, felt incensed as he threw a vicious kick and struck Anton in the jaw. Ducard watched with a calculating eyes while Bruce glared at him.

"I have not the time nor the luxury of remaining in this forced exile." He spat as he blocked a fist aimed at his face from Anton.

"The High Council will declare me dead in a matter of months! And when they do, how can I hope to fight injustice without my throne!" He yelled as he shoved Anton's fist back and delivered a sideways chop aimed at the guard's chest. In the background the recruits pause from their exercises and stand watching the newcomer's next training lesson.

"If your throne was so crucial towards your mission, why have waited so long to claim it?" Ducard responded stoically.

Anton countered another chop aimed at his chest and followed up with a shuffling kick to Bruce's side. Bruce grunted and doubled-over as another kick struck his stomach. Anton delivered a downward chop to Bruce's exposed spine, forcing him to the ground. The Prince of Gotham struggled to take in his breath as he stared up at Ducard through the corner of his eye.

"I didn't have my answers then..." He hoarsed.

"And you do now?" Ducard scoffed as he nodded to Anton to continue.

Anton grabbed Bruce by the back of his tunic and dragged him up to his knees before punching his face into a daze. He unclipped Bruce's belt then grabbed the top of his tunic and ripped it off his torso. Bruce felt the cold November air lash at his bare chest, putting him in a shiver.

"For a man who claims to know what he must do, you lack the passion and dedication to see it through on its proper course." He said as he studied Bruce's shape.

Anton delivered a merciless kick to Bruce's gut, forcing the Prince to fall forward onto his hands with a gasp.

"Did you even perform those morning exercises I tasked you with at the arrival of dawn? Or did you slouch in your bed like a pampered Prince waiting to be brought his morning meal?" Ducard taunted.

Bruce felt a vicious fist connect with the side of his face again. Blood dripped from his open mouth where he was cut.

"Perhaps you were right Bruce. Gotham would be better off without you. At the rate of its decline it will die a quick death, while your presence in this state will cause its end to be slow and painful."

Bruce raised his hand to block a fist coming at his face, Anton shrugged it away with his other hand then smashed his forearm into Bruce's brow. A cut formed on his forehead. Ducard sighed with a measure of disappointment. "So much for the Wayne Dynasty."

Bruce's eyes blazed as fire and gazing at Anton above him, he captured his fist and twisted mercilessly eliciting a cry of pain from the older fighter. Ducard raised his eyebrows with surprise as Bruce capitalizes on his advantage and swings his leg beneath Anton's forcing the man to fall onto his back. Bruce rolled along his back on the ground to put distant between himself and his opponent.

He met Ducard's stare. They say nothing, but the challenge was clear in his mentor's eyes. He waited to see if Bruce's anger would get the better of him, if he would let it consume and destroy him in this lesson instead of channeling it to a proper weapon. Bruce stood firm, breathing fire with an air of calm surrounding him. Ducard nodded and Bruce set his sights on his opponent again. Anton cradled his wrist with a frustrated sneer directed towards the Prince of Gotham. He shed his upper tunic to stand bare-chested. Bruce took a fighting stance, one hand held forward, the other slanted up into a fist.

Anton having been taught the same lesson about anger, took a formal fighting stance across from his opponent. They stand still and silent as the snowfall comes down on their half-undressed forms. A small crowd gathered in the background and watched. Ducard yells a foreign tongue and both men charge at each other with a fury of attacks.

Bruce jabbed a punch towards Anton's waist. The latter blocked it with downward thrust of his palm. He attempted a counter by seizing Bruce's wrist to hold him locked in a forward slouch. Anton threw another side-kick at Bruce's waist, his hard ankle struck the prince hard enough for Bruce to groan loudly in what sounded like frustration instead of pain.

"Do not leave your side exposed." Ducard remarked helpfully.

The prince knew it was a clumsy mistake and wouldn't allow himself to be caught an armbar. Anton aimed another side kick for Bruce's heavy waist, grown from weeks of indulging succulent meats and grains. The prince was ready this time as he caught Anton's leg with his left arm. Finding himself also locked in a grapple hold, Anton released hold of Bruce's right hand to use his own to strike back. Bruce acted sharp and used his free arm to bring it down across Anton's captured leg, striking the knee viciously.

Anton grunted loudly in pain and swore in his native tongue as he crumbled to his knees, cradling his knee. Bruce assessed his opponent vibrantly, seething from his built anger and aggression to keep himself lucid and to mask the pain he was feeling at his side. He approached his vulnerable opponent, feeling neither the cold nor the pain in his body, just aggression fueled by anger and determination. In his momentarily sense of victory he missed Anton's not so genuine expression of pain until he felt the older man surprise him with a backward sweep of his good leg, sending Bruce to the ground with a loud grunt.

"Deception is a powerful weapon your enemy can use against you. You must be attentive to the signs of it." Ducard lectured coolly.

Bruce growled as he sprang to his feet with, his growing muscles constricting as he collided with Anton in a test of strength, hands locked in a tug of war. Anton sneered his eyes at the Prince while maintaining a mocking grin. Bruce wanted badly to bash his head against his opponent but doing so would give Anton the advantage if Bruce brought himself to a closer position in front of him. Through his peripheral vision, Bruce spied Anton's right leg that he had bashed a moment ago. It was held slightly forward to prevent his weight from straining on it.

Bruce also noted his grip wasn't as sure in his right hand as it was in his left where the prince had twisted it at the beginning of their training. With his tactics whirling about, Bruce takes the initiative and lunges forward and slams his hip and upper thigh into Anton's waist, surprising him. He then goes for the left leg with a sidekick to the back of the knee, forcing the older fighter down in front of him.

With Anton down to his knee, Bruce grappled his neck and held him in a headlock. Around them other fighters yell and cheer them on. Ducard studied them silently, as they continue their battle of physical strength. Anton was a well defined male of thirty-two years who'd seen his fair share of battles, but the prince having height advantage at the moment, used the blunt of his weight as well as his strength to keep his opponent down.

His tactic however a brute form of Greek wrestling and combat, would only help if he intended to strangle his enemy to death by the position of his elbow. Ducard knew if the prince had any further training than he did now, Anton would be lying on his back in a deep slumber waiting to be awakened at his current position.

Bruce felt Anton start to shake and claw his way out of his hold, a desperate tactic when faced with impending unconsciousness. Anton managed to rise onto his good leg then drove a hard elbow into Bruce's waist near his ribs which had begun to take on a discolored tone from their fighting.

Bruce released his sleeper hold and held his waist, trying to shrug it off to a dull numbness, but each breath he took in only increased his pain. He needed to control his breathing and felt abashed to admit those exercises would've helped him better control his bodily functions. The prince raised his head only be connected with a hard fist to the side of the face, sending tumbling back to the floor.

He held in his breath as he scrambled back to his feet like an enraged animal and tackled Anton to the ground and struck him across the face. Ducard watched with a disapproving eye at the brutish attack. Clumsy.

Anton held his elbows in front of him to block the attacks then waited until Bruce took a pause for breath before driving his head against his skull then shoving the Prince off of him. Bruce again leaped to his feet then felt another fist from Anton strike his face, sending him sliding back on the floor with a groan of pain.

Both he and Anton lay panting for breath as the snow continued its gentle descent over them. Bruce could vaguely hear chuckling from the other fighters and assassin's at his primitive form of attack. Ducard sighed with a disappointed frown.

Bruce felt the familiar feeling of frustration and the humiliation of being beaten and ridiculed when he was brought before Ra's al Ghul. He acted brash, overconfident and undisciplined in his attacks like a child being bullied into a corner who lashed out blindly. He didn't realize until now that he'd been acting that way for the last 14 years. A stubborn and undisciplined boy who lacked the conviction and humility to set a purpose for himself other than living in self-pity and having his responsibilities taken care of for him by others.

No one was going to help right now but himself.

Rather than jumping to his feet to charge his enemy like a rabid beast, he calmly brought himself to his feet with a blank look on his face, betraying nothing on the inside. Ducard watched his movements with a small smirk. There it was. That look he'd been wanting to see for a month now. The look of a fighter, a warrior emerging from the shadows surrounding a frightened young boy within.

There was the look of a man ready to become a knight. A legend.

Anton climbed to his feet having regained his bearing and was momentarily surprised to see his opponent had done so as well. Most importantly the the prince had used his moment of disadvantage to recover his breath and calm his temper. Unexpected. Strategic. Disciplined. Bruce took his fighting stance again and waited for Anton to make his move. Anton felt his exhaustion building and loathed to admit it but he needed to finish this lesson lest he find himself defeated by his own exhaustion.

Keeping his weight on his good leg, he moved forward and aimed a punch at the prince's injured side. Bruce blocked it with his elbows, then aimed a fierce front kick, sending Anton back a few steps. Bruce attempted a shuffling side-kick to the right side which Anton blocked expertly. He watched as the prince shifted to aim a side-kick to his left.

Clumsy. Not on Bruce's part as he feigned a side-kick which brought Anton forward with his elbows to block the expected hit. Bruce used the deception to spin backward and deliver a back kick to Anton's spine, sending the experienced fighter to his knees with a groan of surprise.

Sensing an opportune moment, Bruce waited for Anton to rise before he jumped and delivered a spinning roundhouse kick to the face. Anton spun to the ground and landed with a thud on his back. Bruce wasted no time as he straddled his enemy and sneered down at him.

"If I were you, I'd save my coin."

Bruce held back his fist and struck down the side of Anton's face, subduing him. All around him the Shadows members all cheered and roared with approval. Bruce looked down at Anton feel satisfied as he saw a broken nose before rising to his feet.

He allowed himself a moment to absorb the cheers and the cool snowfall on his sweaty body. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and turned to see Ducard appraising him with a small smile.

"Not bad for a recruit."

Bruce nodded tiredly and watched as a few men helped drag Anton away to rouse him. Bruce sighed as the fatigue of battle began to set in and with the weight of his thoughts and his emotions he felt not so stubborn at the moment.

"You were right..." He huffed.

Ducard looked at him sidelong. "About what?"

Bruce shrugged and released a tired, heavy breath and watched it form on the wind. "I can't do this without your help. Whatever you have to teach me... I'm ready to learn." He said with resignation.

Ducard nodded with approval.

"You have a fire in you Bruce, that much is certain. If you truly hope to save your kingdom you must know how to use it and learn to do what is necessary to defeat evil and injustice."

Ducard patted Bruce's back one more time and stepped away to allow the prince a moment of solace. Bruce picked up his discarded tunic and marched his way back towards the castle. Like before he ignored the men and women making comments at him, except now they were filled with appraisal and encouragement.

* * *

Bruce stood alone in his room in front of large mirror that stood from the floor to his head. He studied the half-naked reflection staring back at him with poise and determination. Despite the cuts, bruises and dry blood on his body, he noticed definitive changes from the weak and thin boy he once was. The boy who lived a pampered life of luxury and comfort away from the harshness of battle and responsibility.

His muscle mass had begun to grow in several areas on his body. His once thin waist was a tub of growing fat that now began to feel hard and trim beneath his skin. His peck muscles were now becoming more pronounced and heavy as well as his shoulder blades. His once bony arms felt like heavy sacks of flesh and blood with the hardness of a stone.

His thigh muscles were growing the same and his face, once a ghastly thin complexion of a boy who was too depressed and miserable to eat, had grown round and thick. His vanity would have convinced him he were fat if not for the hardness he felt beneath his skin.

He would be unrecognizable to everyone who knew him before.

Some things remained the same as he stood he brushed his dark brown hair away from his hazel green eyes. The sweat of his training formed them into bangs at the corner of his head.

The biggest change noticeable to him wasn't in his physique, but in his eyes. The lost and timid boy that was unwilling and frightened to face his fears and his responsibilities now resided in a vacant shadow within himself and starting back at him was a product of his anger, his defiance towards those that threatened him and his home.

He truly wanted to help his kingdom, he longed to, but not in the way his father did. It wasn't enough.

Somehow though he felt his feet were on the right path to accomplishing that mission.

"I will save Gotham... I will." He muttered.

His razor-sharp cheek bones lifted momentarily with a determined look before he turned and made his way to his bed. He looked at the snowy scenery in the darkening sky then towards the burning candle illuminating his chambers. He would've been content to lie back and rest, but knew he had much left to accomplish and little time for it.

Stepping away from the bed, he stood straight and determined before he fell forward to the floor and began a series of fast pushups.

* * *

Away from the grounds of the Fortress of Shadows, a small fire was lit as Henri Ducard fed the small branches into the pit. Bruce was hurled up, rubbing his arms and shivering. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at the flames.

Ducard looked at him. "There is a fire that burns deep within us." He explained, seeing the dark shadows form against Bruce's face making him appear menacing.

A faint sound of wolves howling to the moon light echoed off the sleek ice.

"That is a sound I never grow faint of hearing. It is the call of restless wilderness. If you look closely you can see the shadows move through the trees." He gestured his head in the direction.

Bruce lifted his head and peered into the thick evergreens. He saw glowing eyes staring back at him. He felt unnerved a moment but maintained a cool expression in the face of his mentor. Bruce felt the need to guard himself in the months he'd been here, not just physically but emotionally. It wasn't a tactic Ducard had taught him but one he felt the need to master on his own.

One of the best ways of knowing your enemy was by studying their expressions and mannerisms and Bruce was determined to train himself in all avenues of combat and self-defense. Ducard gave no mention, but often allowed faint smirks of approval, feeling his student was learning his own methods of deception.

The prince studied the moving shapes in the distance with wary eyes. He could almost feel their gazes on him.

"What are they?" He asked feeling a sense of dread come over him.

"They are shadowed creatures. Whose world lies beyond the edge of our own. Elusive and consistently wry. They loom as symbols of secrecy and menace."

Bruce gazed at the movements and heard the untamed sounds of the wild.

"The wolf's very name evokes dread in these lands. We have nothing to be afraid of Bruce for they will not attack unless threatened."

The young prince looked back at the calmness of the flames. "How do you know so much? Did you having teaching?"

Ducard gave a small grin. "I have not always been here in the mountains."

Bruce rubbed his torso shivering as the bitter cold entered his veins. "Why would you want to live in this wasteland? Did you..." His words had become slurred from his frozen lips. "Once have a home..."

"At one time I had a wife. A beautiful maiden. Like your parents she was taken from me and my daughter. And like an untamed wolf that you hear calling into the night I hunted down the murderers and avenged her death." Ducard looked onward for a moment as if he was still searching for his beloved wife. "She was my greatest love."

"Love is no comfort to me. Not when it was taken." Bruce said bitterly.

Ever since losing his parents he had forgone the hope of finding love in any form. He could never be at peace if he believed any of his loved ones would be at risk because of him, because he was the target of a warlock. It was why at such times he had even kept himself distant to both Alfred and Rachel.

"You have strength that has formed in you for years. Held firm by the anger and guilt you carry as if it is a cloak that shrouds your body. The strength of a man who has lost everything cannot be denied his vengeance."

Despite his shivering, Bruce showed no reaction to this teaching.

"Always remember that legends come from the lessons we endure."

"That is no help to me." Bruce replied dismally.

"Why not? Why did you not avenge your parents?" Ducard asked. "Why Bruce did you not learn from that lesson of death?"

Bruce showed his unsettled eyes as he looked at his mentor.

_In the castle grounds the young prince Bruce of Gotham age eighteen walked through the garden with his head pointed down. Most of the castle was empty and only few servants remained including his loyal adviser Sir Alfred Pennyworth._

_ Everything was silent. It was almost like the castle was under a spell that could not be broken unless love entered through the gates. It was like a graveyard here and its residents were lost souls. One of them at least. _

_ The prince's dark hazel green eyes searched the shadows for any sign of the cloaked stranger. It had become a daily routine of his for the last few years since he grew into a young man. He waited patiently for his tormentor to show himself and confront him as he promised the night he took his parents from this world. _

_ Each night he found himself disappointed but not discouraged. He felt certain his enemy would make his presence felt eventually and the prince would be waiting for him when he did. _

_ Alfred entered the courtyard with uncertain pale blue eyes. "Young prince," He spoke in an English accent. "What are you doing out here alone? It is not safe without the guards." _

_ Bruce rolled his eyes. "I am capable of defending myself." He spoke angrily._

_ "That may be but you are the heir to the throne sire, if anything were to happen to you..."_

_ "The kingdom would fall. I know." He said dismissively. He'd heard this lecture too many times than he cared to count. _

_ Alfred nodded, slightly troubled by his prince's behavior. There was little he could other than advise him, anything else would be overstepping his boundaries as friend and servant. "Come sire, your studies must be done before nightfall."_

_ Bruce shrugged. "No. I think not. I am the prince I can do whatever I please without your consent. I choose to spend the rest of the hour out here. Alone." He said with a firm tone, and a determined look. _

_ Alfred's facial expression showed his growing irritation for the prince's attitude. _

_ "If I had my way I would tear this old castle down. Its like a mausoleum and it means nothing to me, just a shameful gloomy memory."_

_ "How dare you speak these cursed words with your tongue. This castle is a more than just bricks and mortar sire, it's a symbol of what a good king once stood here. It is all that is left of him. If you destroy that than you destroy your father's legacy."_

_ Bruce stared at Alfred with his eyes burning feeling chastened by those words._

_ "Your legacy sire..." Alfred beseeched him. _

_ Bruce turned his gaze and stared off into the distance. "I am sorry that I have disappointed you old friend. I cannot wear the crown. I am not the man that my father was."_

_ "Young prince, your father was a great king and also a great man among his people. He believed in you sire, and I don't believe his faith was misplaced. I have confidence that you will exceed beyond his greatness as king." _

_ Bruce looked at the flag blowing in the wind. The mark of his father... his family. "You still believe that I am worthy?" _

_ "Yes. Without a doubt sire." _

_ Bruce appreciated his friend's words, of that was no doubt, he just found it exceedingly difficult to set aside his anger and his pain. His desire for vengeance. What kind of king would he make so consumed and distracted with selfish thoughts of personal retribution? _

_ He kept his true thoughts and intentions secret these last few years, knowing Alfred would only discourage him from such a path. Rachel would do the same he felt, knowing she'd only reprimand him for not believing in justice as an acceptable pursuit and punishment for his enemy. _

_ He looked at Alfred with a faint smile, a small hint of the eight-year old boy returning to his features. "Thank you old friend. Your words are the only comfort I have. I glad you haven't given up on me."_

_ "I will never give up on you sire." _

_ Bruce waited until nightfall and then made his way to the stables. He walked into Shadowcast's stall and strapped a saddle onto the horse's back. He looked out at the clearing beyond the arch way._

_ "This is the night I shall have my revenge." He growled, looking at his father's sword attached to his belt. He climbed onto the horse and rode through the archway. A few miles and he was clear from the castle grounds and into unknown territory of the common peasants that lived there._

_ Most the candle lights were burned out as the sound of horse hooves clicked on the dirt road. Bruce was determined to stick his blade into the gut of the murderer of his parents. _

_ Shadowcast rode through the dark roads, heading into the thick part of the forest where bandits would jump from the tree branches and cut the insides out of their victims. The prince did not care about flesh and blood. He wanted only one thing. The cold blood of the monster who took his parents away from him without mercy._

_ When Bruce entered the north side of the forest by a stream. He climbed off his horse and knelt to the water. He splashed the cool water onto his face and heard a sound of movement from behind him._

_ He reacted and drew out his sword. "Come and face me!" He challenged. _

_ "You dare to use that blade onto me Bruce?" A familiar voice called. _

_ Bruce lowered his blade and looked at the dark haired maiden coming towards him. "Rachel." He breathed. "What are you doing here?"_

_ "I have come to bring you back. You think Alfred is the only one that knows you all too well?" She said with a scowl. _

_ Bruce shrugged. "I am not going back. Not until my blade..."_

_ "You speak of revenge. I thought your father taught you about justice." She admonished him. _

_ He clenched his teeth. "Justice and revenge are the same."_

_ "No they are not. Justice is what your parents did to preserve this kingdom with wisdom and compassion. Revenge can make you wrathful and feared Bruce. It can turn you into something hateful and uncontrollable." She implored him. _

_ Bruce narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you know? You're just a maiden. A maiden whose never lifted a sword nor experienced the same sorrow as my own." He retorted angrily. _

_ "I'm a humble maiden that cares, and I'm also your friend." She said coolly. _

_ Bruce glared at her as he pulled himself back onto Shadowcast's back and pulled the reigns. "Go back to your safe haven Rachel and leave me on my quest... Please, don't try to stop me." He said softly. _

_ Rachel could see the unrelenting determination in his eyes. He was set to his cause and wouldn't be deterred, not by her at least. She felt great sorrow at the idea, the realization that the boy she loved and cared for had faded into this vengeful young man driven only by anger and guilt. _

_ If anything else she believed her presence, and Alfred's kept whatever remained of that boy alive. She could only offer advice and let him know that she cared, but these were his own choices to make. She nodded with a disappointed frown. _

_ "Be careful my friend." She said before she walked away from his path. _

_ Bruce nodded and smacked the sides of his horse with his boots. He galloped away and disappeared into the thick trees._

_After an hour of riding into the shadows of the night the young prince discovered tattered tents and bonfires. The smell of roasted pork on a stick drew his attention closer. He mounted off of Shadowcast's back and quickly, in stealth, moved through the thick bushes._

_The people who were dancing were called "free spirits" in the teachings that Jillana and Alfred taught him. He had only seen a part of their lifestyle on the night of his parents' murder. Anger etched in the deep set brow as he gazed._

_A cold blade touched his shoulder. "What are you doing in my territory?" A young female voice blared with defense. The prince turned around only to see a dark haired maiden with alluring brown eyes standing there with a blade drawn. "Well are you dense... answer my question."_

_Bruce arose cautiously. "I am not here to harm you. I am looking for someone."_

_She lowered her weapon slowly however her grip didn't waver. "Who do you seek?"_

_"A man who wears a cloak and a crescent moon shaped medallion." The prince explained._

_The young maiden rolled her eyes at him. "I have not seen anyone of that sort in these woods. Strangers are not welcome here."_

_The prince looked at a few more dark clothed figures surrounding him. He could tell by their curved hips and long hair they were female. Their eyes were sharp and poised, ready to slay him at any show of hostility on his part._

_"Stand down." The maiden commanded. "He will not harm us."_

_The women slowly withdrew their weapons, still keeping their distrustful eyes centered on the stranger in front of them._

_"He seeks elsewhere. We shall welcome him as our guest for the evening. In the morning he will leave." The maiden announced._

_She looked at him with a cat-like glare. "Come and join us by the fire."_

_Bruce nodded however he hesitantly followed her out of the bushes into a circle surrounding a fire pit. He expected to be ambushed by his enemies forces or killed before finding, but not this. Who were these people? He looked at their "leader" he labeled her as._

_"Why are you so kind to me?" He asked._

_"I do not need to give you an explanation." The maiden sat down. "Men in these woods seek only what we offer. It's how we make a living."_

_Bruce gazed at the marks on her arms. He soon understood who these women were. "You're a woman of sin are you not?"_

_She shrugged. "I do what I need to do for survival. Do not judge my morality. You do not know a thing about my life." She snapped._

_Bruce cringed a moment under her tone but nodded in compliance to her demand. He didn't know her, he should judge her. He felt unnerved a moment as he felt her study him. Mostly his garb. He soon realized how he must appear to her._

_"You're a wealthy noble are you not?" She asked sourly._

_The prince sipped a glass of spring water in a stone bowl. "So this is the life that is outside the borders of Gotham?" He ignored her question with one of his own. However reckless some thought him to be, he held enough sense to know not to reveal himself unless absolutely necessary._

_The woman scoffed at his evasive answer, believing it to be a common attribute to the Elite of Gotham._

_She nodded at his question. "Afraid so. People are murdered out here every night. That is why it is best to travel the roads with company. A few of my friends were stolen a few nights before. That's what happens when you're a free spirit. You pay the price."_

_"You are very young to be drawing a blade..." He nodded at the weapon in her lap._

_"When you live the life that has chosen me, you can't be too young to hold a blade."_

_Bruce suddenly felt interested in this maiden. She was practical and stubborn just like him. In his eyes though, this woman was also dangerous. Maybe he liked danger._

_"Why are you seeking this stranger? Has he done wrong to you?" She inquired._

_Bruce hardened at her question but responded with a low growl. "He murdered the people I loved."_

_She looked at him for a brief moment, silently assessing him after studying his appearance, his posture and the manner of speech. "Wait a minute.. you're the prince." She said with amazement._

_Bruce felt exposed under her alluring eyes and mentally reprimanded himself for being so careless with his words. His short silence would not be convincing if he attempted to lie now. He sighed with a vexed look._

_"Yes." He replied._

_"If the others find out that you're the Prince of Gotham they will ransom you off. You have to leave once they are asleep. I will show you the way." She urged._

_The prince agreed. He was momentarily surprised that she took his identity with an air of caution on his behalf. Why did she care if he were ransomed off? Why wouldn't she do it herself? He blinked back, surprised yet assured that he could trust this woman, at least for now._

_They waited for a few hours to pass as the moon moved into a different direction and then the alluring maiden walked with the prince who was holding the reins of Shadowcast through a clearing. Bruce had glanced at her momentarily throughout the night and noted a troubled look on her face as she remained in deep thought._

_He wasn't sure what ailed her, but did not press for answers in anticipation that she would ask her own questions he was unwilling to answer._

_"Follow this path and do not stop for any reason. For death is always waiting for you in the shadows. Stick the moonlight."_

_Bruce did something that he had never done before he kissed the maiden on the cheek as a gesture of thanks. He climbed up onto the horse._

_"Where can I find you again, elusive maiden of the night?" He lightly teased._

_She smirked._

_He looked onward and then turned back to where she stood only to find nothing but long grass._

_"The night must give her powers..." He thought as he turned and continued on his path._

_The night was getting darker as Bruce rode deeper into the forest heading to a stone fortress where he knew his fate was... Quickly he dismounted from Shadowcast and hid behind a wall with his sword ready to strike. _

_ Three figures emerged from the drawbridge._

_ Bruce stood in the shadows behind the wall, he turned and looked at the stranger who was sneering with hungry eyes. He glanced at the two bandits by his side. The three of them move to a waiting carriage. _

_ Wham. The bandit took a kick in the head and fell to the ground. Bruce stepped out of the shadows with anger burning inside his veins as the second bandit, a chubby short one, lunged at the prince with a dagger. Bruce reacted and grabbed the man's arm twisting it. He chopped at the throat and pushed him into a wall._

_ Bruce then turned and looked at the stranger with his jaw tight._

_ As his parents murderer climbed out of the carriage dressed in his dark cloak, his crescent moon medallion hanging from his neck. Bruce drew out his sword and stood battle ready. _

_ "Why if it is not the little prince? Come for your reckoning?" That familiar voice he only heard his dreams crept over him like a cold draft. _

_ Bruce raised the blade high and peered into the eyes of the monster. Despite his best efforts, he could barely withstand the emotional turmoil in his expression as he faced down the man - the monster - that had haunted his nightmares for years. _

_ He stood tall past six feet but Bruce in his puberty had now reached his same height. He was no longer staring up, frightened, but eye-to-eye with a driven look, poised on inflicting pain and misery on his enemy. The man cocked his head at the familiar weapon in the boy's hands. _

_ "Such a pitiful weapon to use against me boy." He taunted. _

_ "I'm not afraid of you." Bruce growled. _

_ The stranger chuckled. "I enjoy your spirit boy. You do not know what powers your are dealing with. I suppose I should thank you for working up the nerve to seek me out. Saves me the trouble of breaking into that palace of yours and killing your old servant and lady friend just to get to you." He taunted further, his voice slowly permeating Bruce's composure as the prince felt his anger taking control of him. _

_ "You would wish to lose anymore loved ones would you boy?" He grinned wickedly. _

_ The prince clenched his teeth together. "Fight me coward." Bruce demanded._

_ "It must be so hard for you in these desperate times. All the weight is on your shoulders." He continued with his torturous words as he slowly approached the prince. _

_ Bruce shook with anger as he felt a cold chill run down his spine. The stranger stood before him, face to face. Bruce moved to swing his sword but the stranger slapped it out of the prince's hands and pushed him to the ground. Bruce's face struck the side of the road and he hissed to conceal his pain while the stranger looked at him. _

_ "That's where you'll be Prince of Gotham, under my boot. Begging. Just like your parents begged when I took their souls."_

_ The prince wiped the blood from his lip as the eyes of his opponent stared down at him._

_ "What shall be your fate little prince?" His words were like poison. Spiteful and deadly._

_ Bruce felt afraid as the stranger crouched down and squeezed his cheeks. He struggled to break free from the bone chilling grasp._

_ "I could just take your soul. That would too easy..."_

_ "You... won't.." Bruce felt the breath in his lungs fade._

_ "Did you say something?" He slapped the prince across the face drawing more blood. "I've grown weary of this hunt. I'm going to end your life now. Your punishment for this encounter with me shall be a lesson to never cross me little prince." _

_ Bruce was prepared himself for his fate, somehow he knew it wouldn't have been this easy. But he had to do this himself, if there was any comfort to be had it was he wouldn't have died in fear of this man, but in battle against him. _

_ "Say goodbye to your crown, your kingdom and your fair features good prince." He spat_

_ Bruce held a defiant look despite feeling hopeless._

_ "For now all you will be is a worthless creature of the night..."_

_ Before Bruce could be cursed with the enchantment, the sound of galloping horses entered the airways. He turned his head and saw the royal guard coming straight towards him. The stranger's expression morphed from victory to undeniable frustration as he threw his cloak, spinning dust and disappeared into the air._

_ Bruce arose from the ground and dusted his leggings off as he stared at the vacant space his enemy once occupied._

_ One of the knights mounted off the horse and ran to him. "My prince are you injured?'_

_ Bruce shrugged, however frustrated he felt with himself for letting his anger get the best of him, at his enemy getting away, he wouldn't deny to feeling glad that the Kingsguard had found him in time. "No. I am not." He said gravely._

Henri Ducard could sense the anger that was consuming Bruce's soul. "Tomorrow I will teach you how to work with your anger during combat. For now we camp here for the night."

Bruce rolled his eyes and rubbed his chest to keep warm. His only shelter from the cold was a garment that he wrapped around his body. "Why do you speak of anger as if it is a curse?"

"Our anger gives us great power Bruce. If you let it consume your essence of mortality it will destroy you." Ducard explained. "You failed to defeat your foe because of the untamed anger and almost payed the price with your very soul. You must not act careless in battle. Compassion is something your enemies would will note share. They will kill with whatever chance you give them."

"I was close." Bruce growled .

Ducard nodded. "Close but careless. Your enemy would have beaten you if not for your Kingsguard. You would of been enslaved into another body, your spirit trapped forever into a creature symbolizing your deepest fear."

He pointed at the prince. "You would have become what you fear the most."

"A bat." Bruce muttered with a stoic look.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
**

* * *

The sun light was blinding as the smell of salt water and fish hung in the air. The waves rocked the ship's hull as Princess Diana opened her intense ocean blue eyes and gazed at the seagulls flying above as sunlight touched the tips of their wings.

The princess rose into a sitting position from her resting spot at the back of the ship on top of a makeshift bed of pillows on a few stacked wooden crates. Across from her, Alkyone sat quietly having kept watch over the princess since she'd taken her rest. Both Amazons had formed a truce - at least temporarily - once they'd left the island and agreed to watch each others backs as they headed into what they knew to be dangerous territory.

"Have a pleasant sleep, princess?" The rogue Amazon emphasized Diana's title with a scornful hiss.

Diana eyed Alkyone as she raked a hand through her long hair, smoothing out the tangled strands and she lightly yawned. She chose to ignore the rogue's question, knowing it was merely a sarcastic remark.

Wearing a white robe with a golden belt wrapped around her waist, the princess felt less like an Amazon and more like a mortal woman that sailed the seas, except now she wasn't certain that many women who sailed the seas were as noticeable as she was.

Setting her sights on the other passengers moving aboard, few of them appeared to be of wealth and title judging by their dress. However the princess considered appearances could be deceiving as her own practical wardrobe was meant to conceal her title and blend in with the mortals.

Nevertheless she seemed to capture the attention of nearly everyone on aboard as soon as she and Alkyone boarded, after they had sailed from away from Themyscira on a fishing boat they'd taken. The princess was apprehensive at first with the number of eyes on her and inquired Alkyone that perhaps they hadn't dressed discreetly enough.

The rogue Amazon's retort was that the princess' blessed beauty would be just as noticeable were she dressed in tattered rags with mud. Diana was flattered at first when many men and women on board complimented her beauty however as her time on this vessel grew, the princess grew uncomfortable with their stares, feeling perhaps she preferred Alkyone's contemptuous glares instead.

It wasn't long before Alkyone's patience was worn thin at the number of men, even women who attempted to strike suggestive conversations with the two fair Amazons who had politely - in Diana's case - turned them away however just as soon as a drunk passenger attempted to grope Alkyone, the Amazon, with one swing on her fist, sent the passenger sailing off the edge of the ship and into the sea in front of the whole deck. A rescue boat was dispatched to save the passenger however no one again attempted to approach the two Amazons and instead they leered at them from afar.

Diana felt restless as she had soon grown weary of this ship as she glanced out to the horizon. They'd been sailing for weeks if not longer, she wasn't certain, as they sailed from small ports picking up more passengers on the ship's journey. It was only when they did stop or passed near settlements did Diana feel excited to take in the sights on Man's World. Their last stop had been Cairo, Egypt a few days ago.

She was open minded to discovery and understanding the mysteries that laid beyond the shores of the Greek islands. Even the smell of salt water was different than the shores of her kingdom. Despite that, she still had conflicted thoughts about leaving against her mother's will.

She left without saying goodbye to her mother and sister. She knew that Hippolyta would disapprove of her traveling to Man's World and Donna would have either tried to stop her or follow her. Diana couldn't risk either of those outcomes.

Themyscira was the only world that she had known. She was raised under the laws of her mother and trained in hand-to-hand combat by the best of the Amazon army that defended their land with blood, sweat and determination. In someways, Diana felt like a prisoner trapped on the island. Never once seeing the wonders beyond their shores. All she had was dreams to that kept her restless mind at bay.

Now she was on a quest of her own. Without her mother to disapprove of her choice.

Diana knew that the queen would strongly disagree with her company. The rogue Amazon that tried take her, as an infant, away from the island and from the hands of the queen - if the plan failed she would have slain the princess.

Only time would tell if Alkyone could be trusted...

Alkyone sat on a barrel sharping her blade. Her silver bracers gleamed in the sunlight as she looked at the princess. "I hope you fulfilled the sleep that you lacked because we'll be arriving shortly," she informed.

Diana arose and looked onward at the islands they were heading towards. Massive ships were also docking in. Some were from the islands overseas to the North, the Northwest and from the South. Mostly merchant ships carrying wheat and iron ore.

She watched with interest as the ship they were traveling on docked in. She saw fishermen carrying nets and a few captains standing on the docks waiting for the clear night to pull through.

"Red skies - a sailor's warning..." One of the captains with a scruffy beard addressed to the members of his crew loading barrels onto the ship.

Diana looked at the white sails blowing in the wind and then turned her gaze to the setting sun showing twilight colors of sunset. Pale tints of orange and a pure color of light pink. She walked on the wooden boards and breathed in the air as her guide trailed behind.

Alkyone carried a small sack across her back containing what she'd brought with her from the island. Diana carried one as well to her side. They'd taken little with them as they both knew they would be moving about frequently so they carried only a change of clothes and their weapons beneath their robes.

Setting their sights on the village ahead of them, they both drew up their hoods to remain as discreet and possible. Alkyone's dark red cloak covered her shaved head and Diana's white hood hid her sea of raven hair. They soon blended in with the passing villagers around them.

"Princess, we should find a place to stay in for the night." The rogue Amazon suggested. "We are not going to get far on foot. Not when darkness is coming upon us." She gestured to the darkening skies.

Diana nodded in agreement. "Agreed. We should find a shelter to stay in for the night."

* * *

Days had passed and the Princess of Amazons traveled through villages seeking the adventure of islands and understanding of this new world which was dangerous and mysterious to her restless spirit. She observed and studied the villagers around her intently. They carried on with their everyday lives with a sense of routine yet only a few of them carried a look of comfort and peace.

Diana wondered if that was what she looked like on the shores of her island, feeling dissatisfied and bored with her daily life of training and studying when there was a whole world out there to be explored and helped. Perhaps these people felt trapped in their lives with no way out?

Perhaps she couldn't define their unhappiness since she lived on an island her whole life surrounded by little cause for grief and fear. She'd seen little death in her lifetime as Amazons - as far she was told - were immortal and only a few times in her childhood did she recall her sisters carrying back one of their own who had fallen in battle by an invading force that threatened Themyscira.

Right now however, Diana could see elderly people walking about, holding the hands of children beside them with adoration and a trace of happiness in their withered expressions. This was all new to the princess. Seeing family from a strange point of view, elderly people, children, men and women holding hands. These were the ones that she took notice of as they appeared happy and content with their lives.

What she knew about mortals was they carried a short life span, close to a century in years if they were in good health and Diana could only assume that with the little time they had in their lives, it made them appreciate moments such as these all the more. It was all strangely heartwarming to the princess. She wanted to understand the human heart more.

All the times of being on the island under her mother's law made her become a captive to the fact that there was much beauty and splendor outside the borders of her home. Here she could see pieces of it.

As Diana traveled through a small village of the west, Alkyone traveled by her side keeping a sharp eye out for any wandering threats that would attack the princess or herself. She also knew that Diana was capable of defending herself with the sword that she brought with her from the island, hidden beneath her white robe.

It had been a long time since Alkyone had visited the mainland and though it had been decades since she had intended to bring the princess to this world, she had not expected to actually be traveling here with the same princess who was now a grown woman. The rogue Amazon could only imagine what Hippolyta must be feeling right now. She envied neither mother nor daughter right now.

It had been perhaps months since they'd left Themyscira and boarded a merchant ship that traveled through the Mediterranean coast. Despite the years that had passed since her last visit, the rogue Amazon could sense that nothing had changed in Man's World.

"Careful your highness," she warned the princess, looking at the nearby rundown stone dwellings they passed. "There's an unfriendly allure in these parts. We should stick to the open areas."

They'd left the small and quiet village behind and ventured into the nearby town where they would find an inn. Alkyone kept one hand holding her sack behind her, and the other lighted rest on her side - on the pommel of her sword hidden beneath her red cloak.

Diana glanced over at the small structures made from carved stone and saw women wearing golden jewelry around their necks and wrists and a few on their ankles. Most of them were bare footed, their hair was long and they wore rich colored clothing such as deep reds and golds.

"Why are these women standing outside of these dwellings?" The princess asked.

Alkyone responded. "Your eyes see the sinful pleasures of the human heart. These women are called 'harlots'. They make a living selling their bodies to lustful men and women who pay coin to them for their company. It is a way of entertaining the senses of the body in this land."

"A woman should be free from the hands of a man." Diana argued with a frown. "No woman deserves to live a life of shame and depravity."

Alkyone shook her head.

"Princess, this is not like the island where the women are free from the eyes of men or have independence. This is the real world. You're only seeing half of the darkness that lurks within these types of towns." Alkyone pointed to a random stop outside the market place.

Diana turned and gazed at a few people dressed in torn clothing being beaten senseless and questioned while bound in chains. Many of them were thin and exhausted as though they were starving and dehydrated.

"Why are those men harming those people in chains?" She asked Alkyone who stood a few feet behind her with sharp eyes observing the crowds for any potential threat to them.

"Understand this princess, Man's World is not like your kingdom. People are treated worst than some animals in these parts."

Diana stared at her in confusion. "Why? Aren't all people from Man's World the same?"

Alkyone shook her head. "There is a balance in these lands. Upper-class and lower-class. Noble and commoner. Those bound in chains are slaves to the noble class of their society."

Diana clenched her teeth as she watched the slaves being taken away, some being struck viciously into formation. Diana's hand instinctively went to the sword beneath her robe.

"Don't," Alkyone said firmly, already assuming Diana's thoughts.

The princess glared at her guide.

"We cannot draw attention to ourselves. Not here." Alkyone admonished with a sneer.

Diana soon conceded and released her weapon with a sigh. "Mother was right then. Men and women in this world are savages. I do not understand what heart could commit this inhumane gesture."

"Such was why we as Amazons took refuge on Themyscira. Men can be monsters in human flesh."

"Is it like this everywhere?" Diana asked pensively, afraid her mother had been right about everything.

"We'll have to find out for ourselves. Now come we have a long journey ahead of us," Alkyone turned and walked away from the crowds.

As Diana followed Alkyone she heard screaming and crying, the sound was laced with fear and desperation. The noise cut through Diana's restraints and the princess growled angrily. "To Hades with it."

To her this city was a place of sorrows and fear. She reacted quickly, knowing that it was a woman crying for help, and bolted through a narrow alley. She dropped her sack of belongings and ran in the direction of the sound.

"Diana," Alkyone called out after her. "Wait you don't..." It was too late the princess was no longer in her sights.

Diana ran faster to the middle of the marketplace, her hand resting on the sword sheathed at her waist. Once she stopped she noticed the source of the cry of distress. A young dark haired woman was running through the crowd, screaming for help in her own language. Everyone in the crowd just looked at her if she was a stray dog.

Diana glared at those who stood by and ignored her. Perhaps this was the reason those villagers seemed so unhappy. Did they all have to live in fear of this sort of oppression and abandonment? Was there no law nor justice to be had here?

"Please someone help me," The woman pleaded with tears in her eyes.

"Get away trash." The market keeper yelled. In his eyes this women was filth. She was unworthy of human compassion because of her unclean life. She wore a light blue garment with her face covered with black lines and creams, her lips stained red. "You do not belong in these parts."

Three women entered the area who appeared to have chased her down. They pushed her to the ground and laughed in delight. The girl sobbed in fear, eyes teary.

"Kick her again!" One of them shouted. "She has betrayed us!"

Just as the youngest of the group was about to kick the woman in the face, Diana stood in front of her with her back straight, hands clenched into fists and her hood lowered so they could see the challenge in her angry eyes.

"Out of my way." The woman screamed at Diana "This dog needs to be taught a lesson."

Diana peered at the young woman who was bleeding from her forehead. She could see the fear in her dark almond eyes and the silent beg for mercy that convinced the princess to stand firm in her defense.

"No. This woman has done nothing wrong." She spoke the truth, believing to have seen it in the girl's eyes.

A small crowd flocked in the background, watching with surprise at the tall defiant woman who stood outnumbered. She wasn't familiar to any of them however her striking beauty and unwavering posture made many of them curious of what she might do.

"I said out of my way." The leader of the group demanded. "She has betrayed our cause and the services that we provide."

Diana shook her head slowly. "I will not let you harm this poor soul."

The woman pushed Diana to the ground with a yell of frustration. Diana stared back up at her with narrowed eyes.

"You should not have done that!" She growled as she picked herself up off the ground. Anger rose in her blue eyes as she high kicked the woman in the face and sent her falling to the ground. Blood sprang from the woman's nose while everyone in the marketplace gasped in awe.

Diana glared down at the shrieking woman, nursing her nose. "How does it feel? Does it hurt?"

The woman wiped the blood from her nose with fuming eyes.

"Now get away from this poor young girl. And never touch her again!" Diana warned.

She stared the trio down hard, daring them to challenge her further while the girl watched them apprehensively.

The woman nodded as she arose from the ground and stood next to her gang of harlots before they turned and stormed off into the streets and through the amazed crowd watching.

Diana helped the young woman off the ground. "Are you alright?"

The woman nodded, holding her arm that carried a slash deep into her flesh. Diana examined her wounds worriedly.

"Who has harmed your body?" Diana asked.

The woman looked sorrowfully into the Amazon's eyes as if an angel stood before her. She felt shame for her crimes and quickly bolted into the crowd not saying a word.

Diana stood there for a moment, feeling remorse for girl but felt she could do no more for her than what she'd already done. After the girl had fled, the people in the marketplace began to return to their business, some however watched the strange yet heroic woman feeling both wonder and awe of her presence while others felt timid and wary.

The princess flinched as she felt her sack tossed into her arms. Alkyone approached her with an annoyed look.

"I warned you princess. This is not like your kingdom. Women are not treated as equals." Alkyone spoke condescendingly.

"That poor woman is a slave?"

"Yes. She has been a slave all her life. For that is the system of this city. There is nothing you can do to stop it Diana. It would take more than your strength and skills to stop the injustice that has cursed the women here..." She leaned close to the princess with a grave look, "And we are not here to start a war."

Diana bit her tongue as she knew her guide was right though she loathed to admit it. She came to Man's World to learn and explore, not to cause war and strife. If she could find another way to help these people - a peaceful way - then she would need to learn more.

"Show me more..." Diana urged.

Alkyone sighed as she could see her words alleviated the princess' anger towards inaction for only the moment. She didn't feel certain they would make it to the next town without another hostile incident such as this. Nevertheless she nodded at Diana's request.

"As you wish, princess."

* * *

As the sun was fading away and nightfall was approaching, Princess Diana sat at the window of her room that she rented at an inn and looked out at the full moon forming into the evening sky. After she settled in days before, Diana removed her white robe and now stood in a long sleeved white dress, the hem reaching down to her ankles, the neckline stood modestly above her breasts. Her bracers shone briefly in the moonlight.

She walked to the side of the bed and removed her sword that was forged by her mother's own hands and given to her at the age of reasoning. It had been her weapon through all the training she'd endured and countless warfare that she prepared for by fighting her fellow Amazon sisters. In the center of the hilt was a mark of the gods. A "lightning bolt" that was placed on every weapon.

She held the sword out in her hand then wielded it into the air. The power of the blade made her feel strong and assured in any form of battle she would encounter. She was no less courageous without it she felt.

The last time she used the blade was in a training session with her sister Donna.

Deep down she missed hearing Donna's voice asking her questions about combat warfare and the teachings that their mother spoke. In some ways she felt conflicted but mostly she felt guilty that she left without saying goodbye to Donna, her dear sister that looked to her as a mentor and teacher. She took small comfort when she realized that her sister was on her own - training under the instruction of Artemis. She was in good hands.

Her musing was interrupted by a commotion coming from the stables of the inn outside. Her heart sank as she heard it. It was another cry of distress however it was not a young woman's voice. It was the cries of a wounded animal. Panic, fear but mostly anger gripped her as she listened to it.

She reacted with any thought and jumped from the open window - sword and scabbard in hand - and landed gracefully on her booted feet. The mare cried again, the sound made Diana's heart feel like it was breaking into pieces. She raced to the center of the stables where she saw men roping a chestnut mare and pulling her downwards from her stall.

One of them carried a whip and was about to slash the backside of the horse with aggression.

"Hera," Diana said under her breath. "I must help that poor creature." She ran in front of the horse and stood her ground.

"Move out of my way woman!" The brute snarled. "Unless you want to get whipped."

Diana's ocean blue eyes became crossed as the whip reached closer. She caught the end and pulled him closer to her knee. She bashed her knee cap right into his face breaking his nose and cutting his lip.

He stumbled backwards as blood started to gush from his nose.

"Let that be a lesson to you little man. You have will not harm this creature."

She looked at the others surrounding her and unsheathed her sword and held it pointed at them with challenge. "Whose next?"

They stared at the impressive and deadly blade then they dropped their ropes and took off, leaving her with the mare.

Diana took her blade and cut the ropes. She removed the them from the mare and looked into the horse's dark eyes. Inside the dark hues was such power and trust. It was bound, that only few riders could share a mighty fearless animal that was great for battle and never backed down from a fight nor abandoned its rider.

Being a princess she had grown up with the company of these magnificent creatures that the gods blessed them with. She had rode back on her own steed at the age of two and trained with the horse maiden - the name the Amazon's called their female horses.

The queen's white mare was the queen of all the horses on the island and she was the only one that was allowed to be ridden on. The only difference between the horse maidens and this horse was that they were free from reins and saddles.

"You're a warrior are you not?" Diana asked the horse. I can see the battle scars that are etched in your legs." She knew that this beautiful creature was a slave just like the woman she saved in the marketplace a few days before.

The horse looked at her with steady eyes.

Diana peered closer at the wounds. "Those are not battle scars. You have been abused by the hands of men."

Diana always showed compassion for any form of animal. It was another virtue that was given to her by the gods. She wanted to buy this fine mare. "I promise you that no man's hands will ever touch you. I shall be your rider. You must trust in me as I trust in you."

The mare nodded her head as a horse merchant named John stood behind the Amazon princess. "I see that you have set your eyes on this fine creature fair woman. What are you willing to pay?" He asked.

Diana removed her pair of golden earrings. "Will this be enough to buy her?"

The merchant's greedy gaze scanned the golden earrings in her palm. "Indeed."

She handed him the earrings feeling pleased with her purchase. Before she left Themyscira, Diana had taken enough gold with her to help make this journey easier for she and Alkyone. She believed her mother would understand that more than her actual departure.

"What is the horse's name?" She asked.

"I believe she goes by the racing name 'Dreamstar'. She is a fine loyal animal that was sired by the best Spanish racing horse of the twelve kingdoms. If you must know, the previous owner - the one that raised this creature - gave her the name 'Leya'. For it means loyalty."

"Leya." Diana said, stroking the horse's mane then removed the saddle off her back.

Diana looked at the merchant. "Take my horse to the stables and feed her well. She needs to build up her strength for the journey ahead."

He nodded and grabbed the reins.

She watched the horse enter the stalls and formed her ruby lips into a warm smile knowing that she had performed a good deed and saved a life this night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
**

* * *

In the eyes of criminality, the Kingdom of Gotham was falling to ruin. Every after day noblemen that once believed in truth and justice had become vile and corrupted. Elite families worked in the shadows, gaining profit by making deals with the devils that lurked like filthy rats.

A young dark haired woman stood outside a local tavern dressed in black garments with hair long falling down her back. Her name was Selina Kyle. She had grown into this world of sin. She'd seen beggars plead for coin while rioters caused destruction, heralds caused unrest and drunks bashed women as if they were animals.

To those kind of men, those women that she spent a few encounters with were called "stray cats" in her eyes.

Now she was witnessing another crime happening first hand. She glanced over at the broken windows that were shattered in from the inside. Tables were turned up and chairs broken. Cups of ale were sent flying out of the windows and were smashed on the wooden floor boards.

As her dark eyes gazed inside, she noticed unconscious bodies of drunk men hanging with blood dripping from their mouths. Three men were inside going through the coin box and gathering the profit of the tavern keeper who was wrestling with a number of his patrons to restore order to his establishment.

She could hear a herald near the horse stalls yelling at the top of his lungs to a small crowd gathered in front of him.

"The Prince has deserted us! We can all destroy ourselves in the hope we will be saved by a glorious tiding or we shall all rise up and face these greedy pretenders who claim to be our betters!"

Everything that once served a purpose to glorify, protect, contain and appease the kingdom was falling to decay along with their crumbling structures. The gallows of the prisons were rotting and poorly guarded. Graveyards were stocked and orphanages were without proper clothing and food for the children.

The village of the Narrows was a place for the worst crimes. It surrounded an old fortress for the mentally insane and debased minds. Many believed they were cursed from the forces of darkness. All that shook the walls was endless screaming and shouting of men that acted like caged - raving animals. They were prisoners of their own minds.

Her whole childhood she was given wrong reasons for kindness and had to fend for her own self. She had witnessed vandals disrupting events of charity, seen children become victims of abuse and abandonment within the long nights. Most of the rapists were locked away in Arkham. That was not the half of the crimes. Wrathful struck the homes of the villages and the wealthy treated the poor like swine that slept in their own filth.

In her eyes, innocence was becoming a fading word.

"Where's the justice?" She thought as her eyes saw poor children covered with grime being picked off from the streets into carts were they would be sent to the orphanages which was paid by Baron Carmine Falcone a social climber and tyrant who made profit by making people feel misery.

"Speak of the devil."

Sitting on the a grey horse, looking dirty and grimy was Flass a Gotham Knight who was worked with Falcone in secret. Selina carefully moved behind a barrel and crouched down observing them.

Falcone handed Flass a bag of silver as she overheard their conversation. "Ten pieces of silver as expected." The baron said. "Keep Gordon in the shadows and out of the capitol."

Flass nodded. "There's rumors about a rebellion."

"Things are going to change in this land Flass. Now that the heir is gone. We're going to see changes happen. Keep me informed about the conflict that is going on inside the walls of Wayne Castle."

"It sounds like you want this kingdom for yourself?" Flass implied.

Falcone shrugged. "We'll see. There's a lot of support to be bought. Have a good evening and don't spend all the profit at once."

He walked away while Flass rode off not caring about the brawl in the tavern.

Selina waited for a clear escape from their eyes and slowly walked down an alleyway. There she saw a young Gotham Knight in training, trying to stop a drunk that Selina recalled seeing in the tavern beating up a male-courtesan. She looked at the dark haired knight who was a little older than her own age.

He grabbed the drunk and pulled him off the courtesan roughly. "Enough." He yelled in a firm voice of authority. "This man has received enough punishment from your hands." He looked at the courtesan who was wiping the blood off his lip. "There is no need for fighting tonight. Go back to home and sleep it off."

The drunk gave the knight a scowl and walked away.

Selina noticed the courtesan had a dagger in his hand. She reacted. "Behind you!"

The knight turned around and gave the man a quick blow to the jaw and slapped the knife out of his hand. The man stumbled back. He landed on his back and yelped in pain from the impact.

The knight looked at Selina with relieved smile. "Thank you fair maiden." He replied, gazing at the alluring beauty.

Selina marveled at his smile. "You don't have to thank me. I could not stand to see such a handsome man being injured by a drunken fool."

He looked at her appealing crimson lips. "What is your name maiden?"

"Sorry noble knight, I am not one of telling my name to strangers." She said with a light tease to her voice.

"Fair enough. Seeing that you saved my life. I will tell you mine. My name is John Blake."

"Having a good evening, Sir Blake." She walked away but he followed.

"I need to reward you," He urged. "As a knight of this kingdom it is my duty to be courteous to a fair woman."

Selina paused and regarded him with a thoughtful posture, her arms crossed over her chest. He appeared chivalrous and brave which was a rare quality among the Gotham Knights these days. She smirked and conceded with a nod.

"Alright, since you insisted. You can buy me a pint at the pub."

Blake nodded as he followed her out of the alley and saw a row of horses belonging to the Gotham Knights standing near the tavern. Gordon was there arresting a few of the drunken vandals.

"What happened here?" He gestured.

"Same thing as every night. Another brawl and devious crime." Selina replied dryly with an unfazed expression, knowing things were becoming worse every night.

* * *

The dim moonlight reflected off the stone castle walls as Alfred walked through the courtyard of Wayne Castle in a silent manner. He thought of Prince Bruce and wondered if he was still alive or on a slave ship sailing off far away from the kingdom.

The was a sound of moment coming from the archway.

"Who goes there?" He yelled feeling nervous as the figure emerged from the shadows. It was the Gotham Knight's Captain James Gordon.

Alfred released a relieved sigh.

"Any word Captain," he asked with distraught in his voice.

Sir Gordon looked at the old white haired man, his dismal expression told enough. "My men have searched the bearings of the forest. There was nothing to be found or report. No witnesses or evidence to his whereabouts."

"Did you search the forest area?"

Gordon nodded. "At the old ruins of the Castle Blacklake. The trail went cold at the beach where the prince disappeared."

Alfred lowered his head. "The council must be kept in the dark. They must not know the truth."

"I shall order my men to keep searching. Maybe we have to look deeper. Further into the mountains." Gordon could see that this was eating Alfred's soul up. "My friend this was not your fault."

"The king and queen trusted me. I have failed him and the young prince."

Gordon placed a gentle hand on Alfred's shoulder. "There is always hope my friend. We just have to look harder." He paused, thinking about the fate of the kingdom. "Have you given any thought of the kingdom's new era if the young brat takes the throne?"

"I dread that day."

"So do I. The crime rate has increased and murder is on the rise in the village of the Narrows. I hope that the prince returns before winter. He has his father's blood flowing through his veins but also his mother's heart."

"When we last spoke the young prince said that he didn't want the crown. That was before he ran off... before he..." Alfred trailed off, feeling unable to finish his words.

"He will return." Gordon said simply, his belief firm.

Alfred looked up tiredly. "What if he is dead?"

"Are you convinced that he is?"

The silence was heavy as Gordon waited for the former knight's reply. Alfred each night prayed that the prince would return, that he was out there somewhere and hadn't run away like he had often wanted. That he was just... finding himself. And once he did, Alfred could only hope he would return to his home.

"No. I believe he is alive, wherever he is. He will find his way home."

High above, Brannon watched the two men in the courtyard as they conversed openly. His gaze was cold as his mother was sat in a chair reading over a few scrolls.

"What troubles you my son?" She asked, looking at her child that she bore alone for his father had died from the misfortune of a sudden illness by her hands.

Brannon shrugged with a loud breath. "There are unsettling thoughts that race in my mind mother." He grumbled as he tore his gaze from the courtyard and his faced his young mother across the room.

She set the scrolls aside and regarded him seriously. "Explain my son."

"Prince Bruce... I dread of his return. Mostly I dread of our fate mother." Brannon said as she walked over to the table.

"Perhaps I was too generous giving him more time to return. I should have demanded the crown with the haste the council was willing to offer it." He said with an air of panic but mostly frustration.

Maura looked at her son with her piercing green eyes. "You have nothing to fear Brannon. We've waited for this day since you were born. This will be your kingdom and the prince will be no more."

The blonde headed boy shook his head. "How mother? If Prince Bruce returns he will take his place at the throne."

Maura sneered. "Not if..." She paused.

Brannon narrowed his eyes at her sensing she was keeping something from him. "Mother you speak yet keep hidden secrets from your lips. What is the plan for the prince's fate?" He demanded.

"You will see my son." Maura answered with a kiss on his forehead. "Remember we have powerful friends on the other side." The brunette assured him.

Brannon nodded, however his stare suggested his concerns weren't diminished.

"Yes mother."

* * *

The afternoon sun stood high above the mountain pass, it full warmth and comfort held restrained by the winter clouds looming in the skies above the castle. The air was cool and the winds were calm which proved relaxing enough to the exiled Prince of Gotham who sat alone, high in the mountains at the base of a tower - east of the castle - in deep meditation.

He wore no tunic over his torso, leaving his broad flesh exposed to the cool air. He sat cross-legged, hands resting on his knees and his eyes closed as he let his thoughts wander. However imprisoned he might've felt in this place, his thoughts were free in moments like this.

A month had passed since the prince's fight - or rather training exercise as Ducard had put it - with Anton in the courtyard. A month since his instructor had beaten sense into him that he was ill prepared to return to Gotham and attempt a restoration from its decline. The sum of his stay here was now two months. Two months of fighting, eating, training, studying and thinking. The latter was a grim constant for him as his thoughts always swayed towards Alfred, Rachel, his kingdom and his people suffering from crime and poverty.

But most of all his parents. Their last moments would never leave his thoughts nor his nightmares it would seem along with the face that had taken them from him.

Ducard taught him the best way to alleviate and overcome his fears and his worries was to practice meditation. Bruce had heard of the practice before in his early youth but had never considered or witnessed it beforehand. However skeptical he was at first of its results, Bruce soon relished having these quiet moments of solitude and tranquility. Here he was able to organize and contemplate a solution to his turmoils.

His fears and concerns where set aside in place of calm and patience. Patience. A word he had now clung to almost everyday as thoughts and images of corrupted knights, vile fugitives and helpless good citizens wormed its way into his mind. That along with the realization that Alfred was alone, surrounded by conspirators and corrupt men he called: the King's Council who had likely given a small window of opportunity for him to return and claim his throne.

Patience.

He reminded himself. He was progressing fast in his training since giving himself over to Ducard's teachings. In two months he'd learned a number of hand-to-hand combat techniques and styles to the point Ducard considered him a good study. His training soon moved to sword fighting. Something he'd eagerly been anticipating but now felt a slight apprehension towards. The number of healed cuts on his back and the side of his arms was a testament to the hard and grueling training sessions he'd endured.

His face itself carried a number of bruises still healing from the blows he'd received in his training exercises. Bruce wore them with pride. Each day he trained he did so without a shirt, leaving the proof of his devotion seen by all who still believed him to be a vain and insecure prince priding on his fair features and title. He let his hair begin to grow in longer along with his facial hair as further proof.

He'd made no friends here in the two months. He had no intention to, especially when he knew he would leave soon enough. His reason for solidarity here wasn't entirely born out of desire for independence...

His musing was interrupted by the opening of a doorway behind him.

"Your hour is over. You are expected in the courtyard Wayne."

One of his new guards barked at him. Gallic. A man less tormenting than Anton, but no less strict.

Bruce opened his hazel-green eyes and took in the expanse view of the fields and the forests in the distance just beyond the mountains from this high position. He gave no reply as he released a steady breath and slowly rose to his feet.

He turned and face the guard and followed him into the castle.

As it was each day, Bruce entered the courtyard to the sound of steel clashing against steel. A never-ending tune that sang within these mountains it would seem. His passive eyes stared straight ahead as he followed his guard through the courtyard. Unlike when he first arrived, the assassins and recruits didn't mock or scold his presence, they carried on about their training as if he were one of their own.

Bruce felt no sentiment towards that gesture, nor did he disapprove of it. It was only one less thing to bother him. As of now his feelings and emotions had become more guarded and controlled since learning to discipline himself in not just combat but in general appearances.

The snowfall had paused the last few weeks but left a blanket in its wake. It wouldn't deter the league from their daily routines as many were tasked with clearing the snow and ice from the courtyard and the base of the castle. Bruce himself wasn't among them as it was apparent that the great Ras al Ghul deemed his time and training here to be a high priority.

Setting his sights ahead, Bruce paused ever so slightly as he could see his instructor, Ducard, standing beside Ras al Ghul himself near the center of the courtyard. Two masked guards flanked their leader at either side as he seemed to be immersed in an important conversation with his right hand man. The leader of the shadows rarely approached him during his stay here and Bruce had reasons to suspect why.

As he came into their midst, Bruce stood attentively with his hands crossed behind him waiting to be addressed. An act that would've outraged the prince months ago, waiting to be be seen to, but now it had become a disciplinary act for a man training to be a warrior. A knight.

After a minute of conversing, Ducard nodded and turned to face his student who stood with a passive expression.

"The great Ras al Ghul believes your sword training has progressed far rapidly then he has come to expect. No doubt the basic training you learned before your arrival helped speed your adaptation."

Bruce said nothing to this form of praise but nodded his understanding. Humility. A trait he'd been taught by his father King Thomas and enforced harshly here by Ducard.

"Today we will test the summation of your Roman sword fighting techniques and your speed of adaptation towards your opponents."

"Opponents?" Bruce asked in amazement.

"You will find Prince of Gotham that in the thick of battle, you can but rely on only your own skills to not just survive but claim victory. Do not depend on the aid of those would call themselves ally." Ras al Ghul instructed with his drawl-like tone.

Bruce gave no reply other than a sharp nod. The words of the Shadows' leader however bitter were also truthful as Bruce remembered first hand how the King's Guard and his father were left to die in the forests, having no help or aid come to them.

Whatever he would learn here, it would be enough that he wouldn't find himself wanting or feeling the need to call for help.

"I am ready," Bruce said after a moment of silence passed.

"Then arm yourself. You will need all you can manage to carry." Ducard insisted.

Bruce immediately approached the racks of weapons setup nearby with the determination of a man being called into war. Taking the moment to gaze over his half-bare appearance, he decided to wear a simple chest-piece of armor to cover his exposed upper body. He placed scalloped gauntlets onto his forearms, a leather belt around his waist, shin-guards on his ankles and a small helmet on his head.

He felt heavy and it didn't have much to do with the armor he finished strapping to his torso. He weighed passed 230 pounds by now he felt. His daily exercises and stretches however helped him increase his agility so he didn't feel like a block of stone that couldn't move. Spying the weapons, he chose the two styles that accommodated his strength and agility in combat.

Moments later the space in the courtyard seemed to expand into a battle ground for the Prince of Gotham, however in the background the other recruits and instructors continued their own lessons. Bruce stood alone, wearing only his armor with a metal shield in one hand and a one handed sword in the other.

"Murmillo," Ducard nodded at Bruce's fighting style.

Bruce glanced without turning at the second sword he carried sheathed across his own back - his preferred fighting style. Across from Bruce stood three other moderate assassins dressed in similar armor but carried different weapons. Alberto, Thaddeus and Horus. One carried a net and trident (Alberto), the other a shield and spear (Thaddeus), and the last a sword and shield as his own (Horus).

"Retiarus, hoplomachus and murmillo," Bruce muttered.

He approached the center and met the other fighters half-way. They take their fighting stances and wait patiently. Bruce took deep breaths to calm his racing heart as he would each time in the face of combat that he was still growing accustomed to.

"Begin!" Ras yelled.

A trio of roars erupted as all three fighters charged at Bruce who raced to meet them. He side-stepped the hoplomachus' spear and parried the swing of the murmillo's sword with his own. He bashed the back of the hoplomachus that had passed him, sending him falling to the ground. Without pause, Bruce kicked at the front of the murmillo, but Horus raised his shield to protect himself. The force of the kick however sent the murmillo tumbling backward.

Bruce had but a moment to react as he felt the net of the retiarius descending on him. He rolled across the ground, careful to hold his sword and shield at an outward angle, and evaded the net. He rolled onto his knees just as Alberto spun his trident at Bruce who parried it with his sword.

Taking the initiative, Bruce swung his leg out and kicked the retiarus off his feet. Up ahead he could see Thaddeus and Horus charging at him again. Bruce raised his shield and blocked a blow coming at his shoulder from the murmillo's then spun and slashed at the spear of the hoplomachus beside him.

"Remember, your shield is more than a defensive instrument!" Ducard instructed.

Using the momentum behind his shield, Bruce smashed it into the helmeted face of the murmillo, sending him falling backwards to the ground. Bruce, feeling his energy and adrenaline building, raced and high kicked Thaddeus across the face. Behind him, Alberto regained his feet and lashed at him with his trident. Bruce ducked at the last moment, feeling the air whizzed passed his face.

His hope of victory was to either disarm his opponents or force them to yield. The former seemed like the best option. Alberto thrust his trident again at Bruce's waist which the prince blocked with his shield. A kick from behind Bruce sent him falling the floor. Ducard shook his head.

"Always mind your surroundings!"

Horus had surprised Bruce and the murmillo raised his shield to drive to Bruce's neck - to trap him.

Bruce could see Alberto recovering his net off the ground behind Horus. Thinking quickly, Bruce rolled away from the shield and heard the clank if the impact. He bashed his own shield into Horus' face, dazing him. In the far background Thaddeus recovered his spear to rejoin the battle. He wasn't Bruce's immediate concern as he saw Alberto twirling his net to throw at him. Acting quickly, Bruce reached and grabbed a hold of Horus and held him from behind as a captor would a hostage.

The net was sent flying at them. Bruce shoved Horus and the murmillo became entrapped into the net, yelling and cursing as he struggled to free himself. Bruce slashed at the bewildered Alberto's armor, cutting it from his torso leaving a red line of blood along his chest. A minor scratch - intentional enough to surprise his opponent. Bruce high-kicked the entrapped Horus, sending him falling to the ground. Incapacitated.

His moment of advantage was struck with the head of a spear across the side of his helmet, surprising the prince as he stumbled backwards. The hoplomachus had charged at him from behind and attacked. Bruce felt dazed and knew if not for his helmet he would've been incapacitated if not killed by that strike. Alberto took the opportunity to recover his trident while Bruce struggled to regain his focus. He'd taken down one of them, that left two remaining.

The number of exercises he'd practiced over the last month helped him better control his breathing and conserve his energy for crucial attacks. Right now he was glad to say he didn't feel exhausted nor vulnerable as he removed his dented helmet and threw it aside.

Sword and shield in hand, he waited as Thaddeus and Alberto charged at him, spear and trident raised. Bruce raised his shield to block a thrust of  
Thaddeus' spear, and his sword to parry the trident aimed at his side. Bruce could see small signs of fatigue building in his opponents' eyes, he guessed from his determined onslaught. Fatigue often led to desperate or more aggressive tactics Bruce knew.

Thaddeus spun around to aim the back of his spear at Bruce's legs to take him off his feet. Bruce jumped but the action allowed Alberto to strike Bruce with his trident across shoulder. Bruce fell backward to his knees, growling from the blow. Any further and he wouldn't been cut.

Sensing their advantage, Thaddeus and Alberto rush forward towards the prince and grab a hold of his shield, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. Like a game of chess, Bruce contemplated his moves in advance and once he felt them using a considerate amount of strength, he released his shield from his arm and watched both fighters fall backward, holding the defensive weapon. To their error.

Like lightning, Bruce unsheathed his second sword from across his back with a growl. Ducard smirked.

"Dimachaerus!"

Bruce stormed at his surprised opponents and twirled his swords in his grip as he allowed his agility to come forth in this fighting style. He twirled over the back of the hoplomachus, landing behind him and slashed his sword at his armored shoulder. He spun and slammed both blades downward across the length of the retiarius' trident with a loud grunt, sending the weapon out of Alberto's hands.

Bruce didn't feel tired. No. He felt invigorated.

After disarming Alberto, Bruce followed with two front kicks to the torso, knocking the fighter off of his feet. Behind him, Thaddeus recovered his spear and shield and lashed at Bruce. Bruce side-stepped and swung his dual-wielding swords with deadly speed and precision until finally he forced the hoplomachus to give pause and Bruce slapped the shield away with a swing of his swords.

This whole time, Ras and Ducard watched with mild fascination.

Bruce could see the frustration in his opponents' eyes and felt victory was near. Alberto recovered his trident and he and Thaddeus made a last attempt towards overwhelming the dimacharus. Bruce used both his swords to parry and counter-flank both of their weapons until Thaddeus' spear became entangled in Alberto's trident. Using the advantage, Bruce rolled beneath their weapons into a crouch behind them.

Seeing them still struggling with their weapons, Bruce charged at them. Using the small trace of ice on the floor, he slid forward on his knees in between both fighters then swiped his blades at their shins, leveling them weaponless onto the ground. He sat crouched between them and held both his blades at their throats.

"Yield," He commanded in a firm - icy tone.

Both men faced each other with a look of mutual resignation before they nodded begrudgingly at the prince.

"We yield," they said.

Bruce lowered his weapons as cheers and roars of approvals erupted around him. Bruce stood tall and victorious as the men helped themselves to their feet. His eyes met Ras who stood with his gaze fixed on him. Ducard grinning, leaned close and whispered something to his master. Ras nodded with a blank look.

Both Ducard and Ras approached while the cheers continued in the background.

"You have done well, Young Prince," Ras drawled.

Bruce blinked, it had been awhile since he'd heard himself called that. Nevertheless he nodded his humble acceptance.

"Continue with Ducard's instruction and you may yet find yourself home quicker than you think," Ras finished before he nodded to his right hand man then turned and departed back to his castle.

Ducard himself approached Bruce with a pleased smirk.

"He does not issue compliments lightly, Wayne. You have progressed faster than any recruit we've ever taken in."

"But I'm not done yet," Bruce said rhetorically.

Ducard nodded as he saw a horse and masked rider coming up along the causeway leading to the shroud of trees near the entrance to the courtyard. "No. For now continue with your exercises. I'll instruct you shortly."

Bruce watched as Ducard briskly walked away to approach the masked rider. Noticing the figure, Bruce's expression fell to one of apprehension as he knew it was an envoy or rather a spy of the league's coming to report news from the outside.

News from Gotham.

Minutes after his mentor had left him to his own practices, Bruce had followed his suggestion but only by his own eagerness. Adrenaline from his training session still lingered and the Prince of Gotham wasn't willing to let it waste when there was much more that he could do with himself today. After informing one of the nearby guards and sentries of his intentions, Bruce had set into a sprint down the causeway and began running laps around the lower grounds of the castle near the ice lake.

He paid no mind to the armed sentry, equipped with a bow and arrow, watching him closely from the courtyard above - ready to shoot him down at the first sign that he was trying to escape. Bruce felt the sun high above him shine down, its rays driving away the cold as he raced along the causeway at a slow pace. He took slow breaths as Ducard had instructed, timing his breathing with his pace and keeping his mind focused on his task rather than any issues from afar.

He remained this way for an hour before retreating back into the courtyard to take up another training exercise, one that would help ease the stiffness in his aching muscles. He shed his tunic and stood alone and calm in the expanse area. The assassins and their recruits had retired into the castle to partake in their afternoon meals, leaving the area all to the prince.

Bruce felt hungry, but most of all thirsty after his long morning of training. He had contemplated heading back inside to indulge himself, but he wanted to wait out here for Ducard to confer with him. Bruce took off his boots and stood wearing only his breeches at the center of the courtyard. Standing tall and regal, he took slow and relaxed breaths as he allowed his muscles to ease themselves before he began to sway in slow movements across the courtyard in battle-like poses and attacks.

Kata - like meditation - was a practice he had heard of but never experienced or witnessed first hand until he saw the Japanese warriors here train under the trees at the west end of the courtyard. Their movements were graceful and almost majestic in their own way that left Bruce feeling inspired and determined to follow. He took slow stretches as he moved, feeling his bones crack and settle into comfortable alignment along with his muscles. Here he felt solitude - freedom of thought and movement.

This practice was to help a novice better hone his fighting techniques - hone their precision, execution and fluidity so their movements in combat felt instinctual and natural. It was in these movements that Bruce felt he was more than a lost little boy playing prince and feeling sorry for himself, and more like a man given purpose - given peace of mind and body.

He carried on like this until he could hear approaching footsteps across the floor behind him. He shifted in his movements to look behind and saw Ducard approaching alone, his arms crossed behind him expectantly. Bruce slowed him movements then stood in an attentive posture as his mentor moved slowly - clearly having been observing his student's practice with scrutiny.

"Your waist has become wider along with your limbs. Your muscle mass has grown considerably compared to how you first appeared to me when you were brought here." Ducard observed with a practical tone.

Bruce nodded as he wiped away the sweat on his brow with a cloth he carried.

"I've noticed. I don't think I've ever eaten so much, even in the comfort of my palace."

"Well it stops now. You've been fed enough to build up your strength to wield heavier weapons in combat, and now you'll just need to maintain it."

"The exercises have helped. I've never felt this... invigorated - capable - ever in my life." Bruce admitted without arrogance nor pride in his tone - just an amazed observation.

"That's good. You're on the right path, only now its time to hasten your journey." Ducard said with a grim look.

Bruce's expression fell to one of seriousness.

"News from Gotham?" He asked eagerly.

Ducard nodded.

"Your kingdom is in disarray after your disappearance. Half the population believes you dead and the rest are convinced you've abandoned them entirely to pursue your own freedom elsewhere."

Ducard watched the prince's reactions. He felt impressed that his young novice maintained a passive expression at this news, masking any emotions he might be feeling. He continued his report upon his silence.

"Your High Council wishes to declare you dead and appoint a successor."

Bruce narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Successor? How? I'm the only son of my father, there is no other in my family to claim the throne."

Ducard nodded with a considerate look. "Perhaps in your extended family then. My spies report mention of a boy, fifteen-years passed, and his mother now residing within your palace."

Bruce lowered his gaze as he tried to conjure a memory of anyone on his mother or father's side of the family who could be next in line for the throne of Gotham. He could think of no one immediately as the memories of his childhood he had purposely tried to forget.

The prince shrugged, knowing this wasn't something to contemplate now. Instead he asked a more important question that he'd been contemplating.

"What of my adviser? Sir Pennyworth?"

"He has not given up the search for you. He's been dispatching knights to all corners of your land to find a clue of your whereabouts."

Bruce inwardly smiled to himself. His friend had not given up on him. Even now, as Alfred had every reason to suspect his prince was either dead, captured or running away he had not given up searching for him.

"The council and the boy have given you 4 months to resurface and claim your throne before they take full control themselves."

Bruce looked back up at Ducard.

"So that leaves me with how much time?"

"Two months. Crime has also been reported to have escalated in the villages outside your capital. Civil unrest is also growing as rival families of nobility are vying to take control of territories in hopes of rallying support to claim your throne for themselves."

Bruce resisted the urge to clench his teeth in fury. Instead he maintained his cool facade however there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes. Ducard looked over his sweaty face and appeared thoughtful as he reached into a pouch at his side pulled out a flask.

"Is there any good news in this report?" The prince asked sourly.

Ducard held the flask out to him and the prince eyed the object before nodding gratefully.

"You will see your kingdom again soon." Ducard announced.

Bruce looked at him with surprise.

"What do you mean?"

The prince opened the flask, eager to quench his thirst after his long day of training. He downed the cool liquid with a long gulp before withdrawing from the flask with a disgusted look.

"Ras al Ghul and I have conferred and your training will need to be accelerated to get you ready for your return."

Bruce felt his throat begin to grow cold along with all the muscles and bones in his body as he spat out the sour aftertaste left in his mouth from the liquid he'd just consumed. He dropped the flask onto the ground as he felt his fingers grow numb and pale. A purple colored substance leaked from the flask onto the cold floor.

Ducard watched with an expectant look as the prince fell to his knees, clutching his arms as if his bare-chest had just now felt the winter's chill upon him - only it was coming from within. The prince looked up at his instructor with an accusing look with slight panic etched into his eyes.

"Wh-What have y-you done to me?" Bruce asked with a strangled voice as he felt his words starting to become torn from him along with all feeling of his limbs, neck and torso.

He fell to the ground on his side as Ducard leaned down to face him at eye-level.

"Evil will attack you in many forms Bruce. Not just in flesh and steel but through dark magic. You must be prepared for such a threat when you return home."

Ducard patted Bruce on the shoulder while the Prince of Gotham could only glare up at his mentor angrily.

"Don't worry. The paralysis potion will only disable your bodily functions for an hour. Once you have taken enough of it your immune system should be able to withstand its effects."

Ducard gave Bruce a reassuring nod, then rose and left his student on the floor of the courtyard, staring into space.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The December midday cold wind blew through the fire as Ducard pulled up another log and tossed it into the embers in front of him. His small camp soon became engulfed in a warm glow as he sat quietly on a wooden log outside the forests near the ice lake. His thoughts were tepid as he gazed at the log across from him where a small black bat sat perched, screeching softly as it tugged at the small shackle tied to its neck - restraining it.

Not his ideal company but one born out of necessity he felt as he reached for a long stick and poked at the wood in the fires, allowing the flames to properly consume them. He raised his head to the skies and gazed at the gray winter clouds forming above.

"I have always favored a gray sky. It reminds me of a storm. The never ending battle of good vs. evil in this world - our world. Such beauty as a clear blue sky can only be appreciated when this earth is free of those that threaten it."

His tone was nostalgic as the campfire cast a dismal shadow over his forlorn expression. He directed his gaze to the creature seated across from him as it screeched and flapped its wings as if in response. He sighed as he studied its animalistic features.

"Freedom can be a blessing and as disadvantageous as a curse. Were you free now, you would be more lost than you were before. Lost and afraid." He said with a clipped tone.

The creature screeched and lashed its wings at him. Ducard scoffed at it.

"You wish to speak? No. You will listen." He leaned forward from his log with a stern look. "Fear is a power that the evil and corrupt utilize to subjugate those who would defy them. It is an emotion being widely spread throughout Gotham and if left unchecked all strength and will, shall perish."

"I have taught you how to engage 600 men, but as I said 'evil will attack you in many forms.' It will find you and use your fears against you."

"Now you must learn to overcome them. What you endure now is a manifestation of what you fear most and if you had the strength and will to overcome it, you wouldn't be in this state."

[Flashback]

_Bruce and a small number of guards moved slowly through the forests near the ice lake beneath the castle. Ducard of course followed alongside him as they traveled. Over the weeks Bruce had been adapting his body to magical potions and toxins. However angry he was at the cruel introduction to that training, he discovered it was just as necessary as learning to track and hunt in the wilderness - which was were he stood now._

_ "The forest is the most dangerous environment in the wilderness, as you know." Ducard began._

_ Bruce ignored the grim memories attached to his comment._

_ "It is dark, deceitful and can be a weapon utilized by both you and your target. As you traverse its interior, it would be ideal for you at once to blend in with your surroundings if not by clothing then by shadow and silence."_

_ They shuffle around a set of trees and continued on a snowy path. In the background a set of guards kept a fair distance - armed with swords, bows and arrows in their hands - to the rear and side of master and novice._

_ "And what am I hunting?" Bruce asked stoically, his expression guarded._

_ "Anything you as a knight would set your sights upon. It could be a runaway fugitive, a wild animal or an unspoken thought. An embrace from within."_

_ The prince was silent as he pondered his mentor's words. He suspected he was intentionally vague with his words and his meaning was for him to discover himself._

_ "Only you can be sure."_

_ Bruce paused as he was suddenly surrounded by an immense silence within the forests. He swiftly turned around and found that Ducard and the guards had all vanished as if into the air. His eyes widened in surprise at their silent withdrawal into the wilderness._

_ "Impressive," he thought._

_ Despite his amazement, he clutched the hilt of his sword sheathed at his waist as if in reassurance. His combat training had excelled to Ras al Ghul's expectations it seemed as his training was now shifted towards survival in the wilderness. Of course, Bruce had come to realize that regarding the League of Shadows, their training came in multiples at once._

_ He secured his cloak over the front of his body but kept the hood down from his head. His eyes would need to be attentive to any signs within this area. Tempering himself, he continued on the path in front of him as quietly as his form would allow. His ears were opened, listening to the soft chirping of birds within the trees and the steady blow of the wind whipping against his face. His eyes scanned the shrubs and the snow covered leaves on the ground in front of him. They were undisturbed as if no one had passed through in weeks._

_ Observing his immediate surroundings he grew restless when he found no signs of recent travel. He backtracked a few steps and soon discovered broken twigs to a patch of plants at the side of a tree. He steeled himself and slowly progressed further down the path leading around a small clearing. A single set of footprints ran across towards a few trees then it appeared they doubled-back._

_ As he moved, his eyes were roaming in haste to not notice a string of rope tied in between two trees. Once the prince felt a tug at his ankle, his eyes widened and his heart raced in realization. He had but a moment to react and his months of training in controlling his emotions proved helpful as he immediately leaped across and rolled into a crouch before a net could string him up off the ground where he stood._

_ Bruce huffed and released a dry chuckle as he wiped the snow from his growing beard. He rose to his feet and followed the trail to a tree where he could see a chest placed in front of it. Bruce stared at it long and hard in consternation._

_ "An embrace from within." He murmured Ducard's words to himself._

_ He knelt down in front of the chest and wiped the snow off its surface. It wasn't locked. As he set his hands against either side of the cover, he felt a deathly silence come over the area. The birds had even stopped their chirping. He froze for a moment before he calmed himself then determinedly opened it._

_ He screamed in utter terror as he was at once assaulted by a swarm of bats that were caged within._

_ "Embrace your worst fear..."_

_ Bruce rolled and batted them away frantically as he did when he was an eight year old boy that had fallen into a dark well. All he could hear was the bats screeching wildly in his ears and it sped his racing heartbeat._

_ "Focus. Concentrate."_

_ He held his breath and summoned forth his anger and his defiance. He channeled it into fuel of determination and slowly he rose off the ground and opened his eyes. He found that the bats had slowly dispersed into the forests. He released his shaky breath and turned towards the chest he'd just opened. Inside there laid a small flask not too dissimilar to the ones he'd been using to adapt to magical potions and toxins._

_ He narrowed his eyes at the offending item then raised them about to survey his surroundings. He wondered if this was the true intent of this test. If so then he was right to assume that his training came in doubled forms. Debating his options, the prince knew that whatever was inside would make him feel unpleasant if not pain._

_ As much as he loathed these physical trials, he had a little over a month before returning to Gotham. He couldn't afford to slow the progress he was making in building himself up to be this unrelenting warrior. He growled as he picked up the flask and slowly opened it._

_ He sniffed at the contents and grimaced. It was unfamiliar to the other toxins and potions he'd already sampled so whatever this was he fathomed he would be unprepared for its effects. Taking in a firm breath with a determined look, he immediately drank the substance._

_Almost instantly he felt his throat burn and his insides start to twitch and constrict. He gasped aloud and grunted as he fell onto his side and rolled on his back - staring up at the looming trees masking a cloudy gray sky above him. From behind a tree, Ducard approached and watched him twitch and transform amidst cries of pain and fury._

_"And know that this power can be yours."_

_He muttered as his novice's form shrunk and twisted into the form of a small black bat._

[End Flashback]

Ducard watched passively as the winged creature began to thrash and screech loudly against the log. Its cries echoed along the airwaves. Its wings flapped wildly as its body mass began to expand until the shackle chained around its neck broke from the pressure and its body fell back against the ground across from Ducard.

The wings contorted and sank into the upper torso of the body and the skin tone took on a pinkish hue. Once the reversion was complete, Ducard rose with a blanket in hand and covered the naked from of Bruce Wayne.

"To conquer fear, you must become it. Once you have, you must bask in the fear of other men."

* * *

A clamor of fear and unease rang through air as Sir Gordon rode on his horse through the capital of the kingdom. A small escort of his most loyal knights followed behind him. He adjusted his helm over his face to keep the cold December wind at bay and to mask the weary look on his face - the result of many sleepless nights catching up to him.

It had been more than four months since the prince had vanished into the unknown. At the beginning of each morning, the Captain of the Knights feared that it would be the day they discovered his body floating in the lake where his trail had gone cold. Each day Gordon found himself falling further into a looming sense of despair that the prince might never be found. That he himself and Sir Pennyworth were hanging onto a foolish hope that they had not failed the Young Prince they had charged themselves with protecting - that he would be found alive, either in captivity or in his own reemergence.

Sir Gordon feared for his kingdom with each day that passed and the only bodies that were discovered now triggered unrest throughout kingdom. The Captain felt certain that now Gotham had more to fear aside from the drunken idiots, thieves, rapists and mercenaries moving throughout the villages outside of the capital.

"When was the body discovered?"

He spoke through his helm to his promising new recruit - John Blake, who rode on his own steed to his right.

The young knight sighed at his question. "This morning Captain, before dawn. The city guard was alerted when they heard the screams." He nodded to their destination ahead. A small patch of land just outside of the streets near the cliffs.

The Captain could already see a small crowd of citizens - most of them nobles - gathering outside of the gates, all of them shifting and speaking in panicked tones. They stood outside the perimeter of the small estate, formed by a high wall and closed by a black metal gate. A small band of knights stood at the front of the gates, holding the crowd back.

"Make way! Make way for the Captain!" One of the knights yelled as they forced a path in the crowd for Sir Gordon to ride through with his men.

Many of the nobles protested as Gordon rode past them through the gates.

"It was an animal! A monster killed Lord Gregory!"

"We're not safe!"

"The Narrows scum need to be purged!"

Gordon ignored their rantings as he dismounted his horse, removed his helm and took in the grim sight of the area. The estate guards laid dead, bloodied and torn on the grass along the premises. Their throats were mangled and ripped as though they were attacked and killed by a wild beast.

"My God..." Gordon whispered as he took in the grim sights.

It was a massacre. Several of the guards' bows and arrows laid scattered alongside of them, their arrow-heads matted with dried blood. It appeared they put up a fight before they were killed.

"How many killed?" He asked, his tone remorseful.

"Six, including the lord of the house."

"The victim was a noble?" Gordon inquired as he and Blake walked towards the front of the estate where a number of his men waited for him. Arnold Flass was among them.

"Yes. Lord Gregory. He was a friend of Councilman Phillips."

Gordon shrugged. The number of murders had increased in the last few months since the Young Prince's disappearance. Gordon suspected a few of them were caused by escaped mad fugitives from Castle Arkham.

His efforts to entreat the High Council towards renovating its security structure had fallen on deaf ears it seemed. As poor villagers and commoners in the Narrows village suffered and lived in fear of these mad men, the Elite and nobles lived in comfort and unburdened spirits as they were awarded with redecorated brothels and traveling festivities from the town of Bludhaven. All paid by the High Council of course.

It appeared the darkness was now creeping its way into the capital, and however much it concerned the Knight Captain, he felt it could not happen to more ignorant people such as the wealthy nobles. Perhaps now he would have the attention of at least one of the High Council members.

He set his attention towards Flass across from him who gazed at him indifferently.

"Sir Arnold," Gordon nodded.

"Knight Captain," He said snidely.

Captain Gordon was in no mood for his sardonic behavior as he advanced towards him. "How in hell did this happen? Your unit was stationed to patrol this area this morning. Where were you?!" He questioned heatedly.

Flass scowled. "I had an appointment with Councilman Earle. You should be used to that." He smirked tauntingly.

Gordon glared at him.

"As for my men, they had just finished this area when they changed shifts. The attack must have happened after they had left Captain."

"You were away from your post? For how long?!" Gordon demanded.

"Time is fleeting Captain, but I imagine no more than an hour. I do not dwell on its passing."

Gordon nodded with false understanding.

"That is a pity. If you only were at your post, we might still have a king in this city!" He retorted before storming passed the disgruntled knight. "If I had my way, I would have sent you to the Gallows on that very night." He said over his shoulder.

Flass stared coldly after him.

"It is a good thing then that Councilman Earle sees something better in me than he does you, Knight Captain!" He shot back haughtily. "Once I find and nag this murderer, I will be one step closer to taking your job." Sir Flass taunted him. "Come men. Sir Gallo." Flass gestured to one of his soldiers as he turned and marched away from the estate with the small contingent of his men.

Sir Blake stared after him with a glare of contempt before turning to follow after his Captain.

"How long must we endure his words and his presence Captain? You would need only give me a word and I would beat him until he would not be able to wield a sword again!" Blake vented as he strode alongside him.

Captain Gordon only shook his head.

"He is a favorite of Councilman Earle... and Baron Falcone I suspect. If I dismiss him from my regiment then he will protest to the Council and they will reinstate him." The Captain released a heavy breath, the weight of his words bearing a clear stress on his duty, John noticed.

"So it is true? King Thomas and the Kings Guard fell because Flass wasn't at his post to answer their call for aid?" John felt stunned but mostly confused at the thought.

Gordon nodded absently.

"Why does he remain in service then? Would not the Young Prince have sought to deliver punishment against Flass for his error?"

"The High Council... they demanded my silence on the matter. They did not wish the nobles to lose their faith in the Gotham Knights and our ability to protect them by publicly humiliating one of our own. As for the Prince, the knowledge was kept from him because of his youth and because he was not of age to take the throne and deal with the matter accordingly. It was entirely in the Council's hands."

"And when the Prince did come of age?"

Gordon appeared somber now. "By then... I believe he just lost all faith in justice and in himself to take the throne and set things right. It is not my place say anymore than that Sir John."

Blake nodded. "I understand sir."

Gordon shrugged as he passed another dead body on the premises. This one was killed differently than the others. A servant, who laid in a contorted position on the ground with a stab wound to his neck. The Captain paused and observed the body then gazed back up to the estate where they could see an open window with dried blood staining it.

"This one was thrown from a window after being stabbed in the throat." Gordon mused.

"It would appear he tried to flee after the estate was invaded." Sir John assessed.

"So it was not just a rabid beast. It was a pet being jerked by its master's leash?"

"The trackers found only one set of footprints coming from southern wall. Whomever it was, they came from the cliffs and set their beast upon the unsuspecting guards, then they breached the estate. No quarter was shown. Everyone was killed - servants, guards and Lord Gregory himself however his death was more... specific from the rest." Sir John said grimly with a look of repulsion on his face.

"Where is his body?"

Sir John gestured his head and led Gordon to the side of the house where a few withered trees stood. The Knight Captain froze at the horrifying sight ahead of him. A corpse, middle-aged in years, hung from a noose tied to the branch of a tree. The corpse was bare from the chest up with streaks of blood covering the body.

The Captain held his tongue as he approached. He felt no words could explain his growing anxiety. As he approached the body he could see the wounds more clearly. The face carried a smile carved into the flesh. Familiar and unsettling. He then noticed the wounds on the chest. They were words or rather a phrase carved into the flesh repeatedly.

'Hahahahahahahaha'

Gordon lowered his stare from the corpse to the ground but grimaced as he noticed a red puddle formed beneath it where blood continued to drip from the body. "What evil could have done this?" He thought to himself.

"Whomever did this, it appeared gold and coin was thei-"

"His." Gordon corrected. "The killer is man... at least in form."

"We checked the estate, he made off with most of Lord Gregory's gold and jewelry before he fled."

"No witnesses?"

"None Captain. It was dark in the early morning, there was no one about to see anything."

"What of his family?"

"Lord Gregory was without wife and child. His brother lives in the city of Metropolis. We've dispatched a messenger to send word to him. He should arrive any day now to collect the body."

Gordon shrugged in frustration. Not only was Lord Gregory murdered, but they had no witnesses and no discernible evidence to lead them to his killer. How would he explain this to Councilman Phillips and Lord Gregory's kin?

He looked back up at the body of Lord Gregory and sighed.

"Cut him down."

"Aye, Captain."

"Once you are done here, take your men and have them spread out over this area. Fear and panic will likely grow in light of this murder. The heralds will only cause more unrest and it will be up to you keep the peace."

Sir John nodded his compliance.

Gordon turned away from the sight and stood against another tree - watching as the rest of his men began to place the bodies into the back of a wagon to be taken to the crypts. Another murder from the same demon that was until now, haunting the people in the Narrows. It would appear he had now come to the capital.

The Captain was no stranger to death and murder in his lifetime of service, but with the weight of responsibility bearing down on him and so little people he could trust in this corrupt kingdom, he never felt in more need of help than he did now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
**

* * *

The air was bleak and deary as a row of coruscate torches lit the dinning hall of Falcone's debased manor. Horses were mounted in their stalls, sounds of distress could be heard in the background. Baron Carmine Falcone sat in his chair at his tavern. A goblet of wine was raised.

"The harvest is completed..." He blared to his guests. His eyes moved to a few chattels placing platters of food on the surrounding tables.

"Tonight we celebrate the conquest of fortune well earned from the hearts and minds of this land. This once great kingdom once took a stand against organized crime when the gutless King ruled. I say it is time for a reckoning." He addressed to the wealthy and powerful whom were nodding their heads in agreement. They were all from elite families that held much wealth and political favor with the High Council now that Gotham's sovereignty appeared to have fallen.

"This kingdom is crumbling. The peasants are becoming weaker in debts and murder is on the rise." His voice was sour, but he spoke as man reaching out to hearts and minds seeking to earn political support as a consul would a senator.

Among the guests was Councilman William Earle, who was installed next to a bulky guest with a dreary look upon his tight lipped face. Across were two other well known barons: Salvatore Maroni and Ruperto Throne. They each glared at the Head of House Falcone as if their gazes would strike the man down.

Salvatore released a cold sneer as he turned his focus on William. "So tell us William, what do you think of Lady Maura and the young boy?" He asked curiously. Taking a few sips of the wine, William regarded at the other barons.

"Is the young boy, fit to the rule this kingdom?" Baron Maroni pressed.

William paced and composed his thoughts.

"The boy shares the blood of kings. He has been taught well with his mother's upbringing more than the missing prince. Bruce Wayne never showed interest in this land or its people." He spoke in defense.

Carmine placed himself back into his chair and looked at his guests with mighty eyes. "I ask all of you, do you think that the Prince of Gotham will return and reclaim his throne from the boy?"

Ruperto Throne gestured a displeased nod. "I think that the prince is no more. If the Gotham Knight's can't find his body then we can rest at ease knowing that good fortune is entering our mists."

William agreed. "Bruce Wayne, was a failure among men. Ever since the King and Queen were murdered, all he has been was a recluse. Thoughts tempered with naught but self-pity and freedom. He has done no good to the people of this kingdom."

Baron Falcone glowered at Councilman Earle.

"What are you supposing we do?" Falcone asked William. "Become members of this new prince's council? Join forces and ravage this land with our hired swords? I own the Narrows and the East End village."

He had fury in his eyes.

"I say this... The noble people of this land don't care for tradition or lineages. What they care for is luxury and comfort. We strike the hearts and minds of this worthless kingdom by giving the noble citizens charity provided by the slaves in the stockades outside the kingdom." Carmine declared looking at his partners.

He pointed a finger at Councilman Earle.

"Once they see who can truly provide for them, they'll rally up, chew up that boy and his mum and spit that back to wherever it is they came from!" He directed his stare to a shuffling servant in the background who stood moving a cart of dinner plates in from the kitchen.

Baron Falcone slowly moved around the table while his guests surveyed him. "What they also care for is decisive action against all the damned scum crawling their way into our homes." He approached the back of the ignorant servant and once he stood behind him, he drew a knife from his belt and stabbed it into the spine of the servant amongst murmurs of surprise.

"Thieves like this swine!" He spat as a clutter of silverware fell from the concealed apron of the servant. The man sputtered blood and once he fell limp, Baron Falcone shoved him down to the floor. "They need to know they have a ruler who doesn't show leniency, who isn't afraid to execute dogs like this!" He kicked the corpse then snapped his fingers.

A guard entered the dining room.

"Dump this filth out in the river!" He ordered.

The guard nodded obediently and pulled the body up and carried it out of the room. Falcone turned to his guests, many of them didn't appear fazed by his actions however William Earle looked slightly impressed. Baron Maroni drank his wine nonchalantly.

"What happens if the prince does return?" Salvatore said, shaking his goblet. "There is no body. Nothing. No matter how much coin we have between ourselves, the Wayne Fortune easily dwarfs our combined value."

Carmine looked at William. "You said that the prince only has until the eve of the winter solace to return?"

"If Prince Bruce fails to make his return as the heir to the throne from that date, he will be denounced as heir and made as a member of the council under the next of kin: Brennan."

Baron Falcone made his way back to his chair. "This boy, what changes would he bring to this land? If everything goes to his favor?"

"Higher rises in taxes, less city guards walking the streets and harsher punishments to criminals."

"If the prince does come back, it'll be just as easy for him to take his throne. He still has people who sympathize with his past." Baron Thorne suggested.

Carmine's lips formed a wide smile. "I will deal with the supporters of Wayne." He replied darkly.

High above on the upper level, the elusive amber eyes of Selina Kyle watched the barons and the guests conferring. Her temper had flared when she had watched Falcone murder the hired servant. Someone perhaps no different than herself.

Tonight she was acting out of her regular macing character. She was a chattel for the dinner banquet that the Baron was throwing. She wore a black long sleeved dress with leggings that covered up to her knees underneath her skirts.

She expressed a scornful glare as her finger tips touched the railing, listening in on the conversation above. Taking in the details of the plans for the new order of the kingdom and the plans to rise the taxes and execute thieves like herself.

Two of Falcone's guards escorted a thick set man out of the entrance and threw him hard onto the frozen ground.

Coins few everywhere.

Selina turned her gazed to the silver coins landing in the puddles of mud and began to ponder inside.

"Free earns for a night will spent." She muttered, advancing further down the hall. The aroma of fresh baked bread, roasted pork, chicken and mounts of potatoes made her stomach rumble. The darkness of her eyes gazed at a man clothed in rich garments sipping a goblet of wine with his body leaned agaisnt the archway of a door leading into a bedroom.

She could see a few lasciviously dressed women - harlots - pleasuring each other in front of the guest. A noble friend of Baron Falcone it seemed who set his goblet aside and began removing his shirt. He turned to see Selina watching intently.

"Care to join lovely?"

Selina's eyes were appalled at the immoral actions and debasement that the barons were subjecting to these harlots. They were dressed in the finest clothing of the overseas, gold chains, hooped earrings. Spoils of the world. She offered a humorless smirk to the eager guest.

"Not interested."

She crudely rejected him. He huffed and smiled stupidly.

"Suit yourself."

He closed the door much to Selina's relief. The smell of sweat and unclean bodies made her cringe. This was the hospitality and welcome gifts Falcone offered to his guests for their support it would seem. While some of these women were content with their lifestyle, many of them were forced into them at a very young age. Mistreatment of the female body was not uncommon in this kingdom as far as she could remember.

Some were younger than adult years and others were just plain filthy. Selina's skin started to crawl as she walked to a window. Vexation was all she felt as she watched a few drunks pull the women by their long locks into other bedrooms.

The sight of it brought the young Selina into her harsh reality. This kingdom was declining because of the misconduct and influence of Falcone and the other ruthless greedy barons who spent most of their nights counting the debts of the people they tricked into their protection, and the favors they granted them while women were being mistreated like lustful treasures for man's appetizing pleasures.

She shifted as she could sense that men were gazing at her lustily, licking their lips as she walked passed the rooms.

A hand perversely grabbed her backside firmly. "Hello there, beautiful?" One of the drunken barons slurred. "Let's say we go up to the loft. It's a cold night and I need to feel the warmth."

Selina gritted her teeth. Pulsing, she turned around and glared straight into his dazed eyes. "Sorry, I'm just not that kind of a maiden." She explained dryly, moving further to the of head hallway.

The bald-headed baron pulled up a handful of silver coins. "An offer for a price?" He coaxed.

Selina fluttered her eyes with annoyance and kicked him hard in the shin. He grunted as she lowered herself down and whispered in his ear. "You cannot afford me." She entered a dark room, eyes glaring at the treasures of the Falcone family. She moved to a dresser and lifted up a pendent shaped necklace.

A hand ran through her long ginger chocolate hair.

"Soft as silk," A harsh accent whispered in her ear. She froze and slowly turned around, ready to strike only to have her eyes meet into the darkened eyes of Alberto Falcone - the eldest son of Carmine who stood admiring her beautiful, alluring features.

After witnessing how his father dealt with thieves, Selina was wary of him as his gaze moved over her lustfully. Her body was pulsing as he breathed the flesh of her neck - like a cold bitter wind.

"I have not seen you before in my father's home, chattel?"

Alberto lowered his head and advanced it closer to her chest.

"I'm new in the kitchen," Selina replied, sounding youthful while she scuffed off his now deadly gaze. She could care less of his opinions towards her beauty and secretly - inside the depths of her clever mind - she looked for the perfect moment to pick a fight as his hand was now cupping against her breast in an aggressive manner.

He looked at her curious. "I wonder what your hiding under there?" He affirmed, looking at her caliginous features that turned from innocent to malevolence.

"Get your hands off of me!" Selina countered. "You have no respect for a woman. Knowing your upbringing you would not even know what respect is!" She hissed.

She drew her lips closer in a seductive gesture looking at the sweat roll off his forehead. "No, you are a scorn of your father's faults."

"How dare you talk about my father, he is a good man!"

She released a laugh. "All men have their dark sides." She purred.

Acting swiftly, Selina swung and kicked his arm and pressed the heel of her boot hard onto his wrist at shoulder height - crushing the bone as she smiled. He whimpered as she lean forward.

"My father will have your head, b!tch."

She shook her head. "He would have to catch me first." She smirked, acting coy towards the son of the most feared baron in the kingdom.

"How dare you use these idiotic taunts with me. Temptress." He spat as he struggled to free himself from her hold. Alberto looked at the dresser and saw that the necklace was gone. His eyes widened with acrimony. "Where's my mother's necklace?"

Selina curved her lips and waved the gold chained necklace at his face. "You mean this old thing?"

His eyes became furious. "That doesn't belong to you. It belongs to my father. Hand it over or you'll face the penalty-"

She rolled her eyes. "Is that a threat. It is not a very good one. I have heard worse." She leaned her body in closer. "I know how I can get you to change your mind."

Alberto gulped down as her lips attacked his. She gave a hard kiss then pulled away leaving him looking breathless with her enticing charm. She kicked him in the stomach. He smashed to the floor yelping in pain.

Showing no pity, Selina climbed onto the writing desk. "Have a good evening."

She gathered her skirts and back flipped out through the window.

Alberto clenched his jaw, muttering under his breath. "That wench will pay."

* * *

Once she was safety outside - air filling her lungs and her heart pounding - she placed the necklace around her neck and moved to the stone entranced gate. Alberto's breath still lingered inside her throat. It tasted like ash mixed with wine.

She crouched down with haste while surveying the area and grabbed the spilled coins that the thick set man had dropped when he landed harshly on the ground. All that raced in her ingenious mind was the fate of the kingdom. She rose from the ground and straightened herself up as a few knights rode by on horses. One she recognized. The grungy looking Sir Arnold Flass pressed his weight on the horse he rode.

He gazed at Selina with a wary glare.

"Explain why you are out in the cold alone, maiden?" He inquired, surveying her curved shape.

Selina shrugged. "Is it a crime to walk the roads alone?" She protested as the coins jiggled in her hand.

"Spiteful wench, aren't you?" Flass snorted.

Selina retorted in a presentable manner to his comment.

"Pig!" She blared.

Flass cringed and dismounted. "Excessive force may teach you to watch your tongue." He creeped closer as she prepared to fight. The sound of hooves galloping echoed in the airways. A disturbance that caused Selina to regain her composure and release a cold glare with her amber copper eyes.

She turned, breathing deeply, expecting to see reinforcements. To her bewilderment a rider cloaked in a blue garment was closing in on a black and grey horse - steadily moving towards Selina.

Flass drew his sword and pointed at the rider. The rider responded by pointing a finger at his weapon.

"Doow emoceb letam." The rider blared in a powerful tone. Sir Flass' eyes widened as his weapon turned into a wooden branch.

Selina shook her head as the horse stood in front of her and a hand reached out and pulled her onto the back of the saddle. The rider kicked the horse into a gallop and took off with Selina holding on.

"Do you always have to spoil my merriment," Selina replied. The hood came off.

A raven haired woman with piercing dark sky blue eyes stared at her from over her shoulder.

"Depends on the company that you keep, Selina Kyle."

"Its good to see you too, Zatanna. Though I excepted you sooner." Selina said, holding onto her childhood friend whom she spent many adventures with. Zatanna's father, John Zatara was an illusionist and a magi whom took Selina in after her own drunken father was murdered soon after her mother by bandits - overcasts from the outskirts of the borders of Gotham.

Zatanna, like Selina, had lost her mother, who was also a mage, to the unforgiving cold hands of death when she was nearly three months old. After that, her father raised her and taught everything she needed to know about magic. It was not enough, she had an open mind and craved for knowledge of the outside world.

Once they were clear of Falcone Estate, Zatanna eased her steed into a steady gallop on an empty road leading towards a village ahead of them.

"I traveled throughout vast kingdoms and met mages who trained me to use my powers. I feel guilty for not writing to you. It has been many seasons since we parted. It feels more like a lifetime, my friend." Zatanna said. "I sense there is much distress here."

"A dire situation is happening in this kingdom." Selina said from the back of the horse. "The throne of House Wayne will soon become a coven for deception and unlawful ruling from an unwillful child."

Zatanna nodded as she felt the cold breeze sweep passed her cheek. "I sense dark forces are coming to this land." She explained. "Something unseen and distant keeping a watchful eye on all of us. I fear none of us will be safe."

"The barons are planning to form an alliance with the child. They want to help rule him this kingdom in their debased image." Selina spoke coldly as they rode through the village.

"What of the Prince of Gotham, where is he?" Zatanna asked, keeping her eyes on the narrow roads ahead.

"Missing," Selina breathed as the cold air struck her lungs. "The prince has been missing for over four months."

"And this child will be appointed the throne if the prince does not return?"

"It would seem so."

"How much time is left before the decisions are made?"

Selina tightened her jaw as the cold wind hit her cheeks. "The eve of the winter solace from what I gathered during their conversions that I heard. The boy will become the ruler if the prince fails to return."

"Selina, might I ask why you have have taken a great interest with the Prince of Gotham?"

"I met him." She answered, collecting her thoughts. "He entered my territory as a stranger. I was of course ready to slay him at any sign hostility. But I did not. He was different than most of the men that entered my domain. Then when I found out the truth of who is really has, I drove him away from the group that I stayed with knowing that they would have ransomed him off for their own pleasures."

"I am amazed. You, Selina Kyle, the mistress of malevolence and protector of mistreated women saved his life. I guess he must have some good will inside that soul of his after all."

Selina shrugged.

Zatanna nodded. "What of that knight that almost slayed you, who is he?"

"A rat that works for Falcone. Corrupted and takes bribes from other merchants and barons. He is nothing but scum which can easily be knocked off his horse." Selina growled with resentment.

Zatanna agreed.

They rode on and disappeared within the looming dark shadows.

* * *

Once the fair maidens had departed after humiliating his commanding officer, Sir Gallo of the Gotham Knights stepped out from the shadows on his horse beside the Falcone Estate and rode towards Flass near the gates. Flass muttered a string of curses as he beat the wooden branch against the ground as a child would in a hissy fit.

"You have a way with women, Sir Flass." The middle-aged man, with short dirty-blonde hair provoked him with a sardonic smirk.

His commanding officer glared up at him.

"Shut it! One of them was a mage! They went down the road passed the woods. Hunt them down Gallo and bring em' to me!" Flass ranted

"On what grounds, embarrassment?"

"On my orders!" He snarled.

Gallo's smirk turned humorless as he observed the area ahead. His grey eyes could make out the distant shapes of the two young maidens galloping away. It would not take much to catch up to them. He looked down at his commanding officer that he cared nothing for and offered him a false nod of compliance.

"As you will, Sir Arnold. Shall I offer you my sword, in case more unsuspecting maidens should cross your path today?" He grinned tauntingly.

"GO!" Flass smacked the back of his horse.

Gallo shook his head and kicked the sides of his horse and took off down the rode in the direction of the retreating maidens. He rode to the top of a slope and could see the maidens heading towards the village. He carried on at a slow pace until he was certain he was out of Flass' line of sight. He brought his mare to a stop and peered at the retreating women with contemplation.

"Another day fair maidens. Fortunately for you, I have an appointment to keep."

He turned his steed and rode east toward the woods. He arrived minutes later near the edge of a creek. He dismounted and quietly assessed his surroundings before marching towards a cleft of rocks by the water. He lowered his head and reached for a knife at his belt then slowly drew blood from his forearm. He began to trace sigils on the rocks with it, then muttered a summoning incantation.

A black cloaked shape materialized behind him.

"Report!" The voice boomed.

Sir Gallo rose to his feet and turned towards his master. "Volos. My lord, the kingdom is crumbling into disarray since Prince Bruce disappeared. A woman and boy have surfaced claiming to be heirs to the throne while the Barons conspire against it. There are mad fugitives murdering and causing pani-"

"How goes the search for the Prince?!" Volos interrupted.

"No result. Many believe he was either taken captive or that he fled to abandon the throne."

"No body has been found then?"

"No, my lord."

Volos tensed and shrugged his shoulders in frustration before he bellowed.

"I WANT HIM FOUND!"

Gallo slightly flinched at his tone, but kept a calm facade. He was not born in Gotham so he cared little for the fate of the kingdom but he knew his master held an interested stake in its future. He was never told what it was exactly, but knew it was important enough for his master to have murdered the king and queen over a decade ago and was now in pursuit of their only son.

The young knight had been dispatched into the kingdom only a few years ago to serve as a recruit for the Gotham Knights and to serve as a spy for his master from within. He wasn't certain if he was alone in his mission, but he knew his place from within was important enough for his master to have relied on his intelligence for so long.

"The prince's adviser and Sir Gordon have not given up hope on his return or discovery. So long as they remain motivated, the prince - if he is alive - will be found, my lord."

Volos advanced on his soldier. "He had better. So long as he is alive, my family cannot enter Gotham. And I..." He turned away and glared up at the cloudy gray skies. "Just find him Gallo."

The knight nodded.

"What of the woman and child. Tell me of them..."

"Lady Maura and Brannen. The High Council has acknowledged the boy as the next of kin and the boy has given the prince a month further to resurface and take his throne before he assumes power."

Volos nodded. "I see..."

"What of the Barons my lord? They are rallying up their own support."

His master laughed.

"If my years on this earth has taught me anything, it is that power is absolute. These men of wealth will play at words and games with each other in pursuit of the throne, but they will destroy each other in the ensuing battle for it. Let them." He hissed.

"What shall I do I meantime my lord?"

Volos turned away and marched off the rocks.

"Avert suspicion as you have. Follow their orders while keeping a watchful eye on all. Most especially keep watching on this woman and her child. Gauge their intent and their plans and any weaknesses they may exploit." He ordered.

Gallo became vexed. "My lord, my station is placed beneath a dimwitted fool who cannot even hold off a maiden. How can I hope to be placed anywhere near the queen regent and her son?"

"That is for you to contemplate. Do what you must! I expect a report in a month's time. If I learn you have made no progress, rest assured I will sculpt you into this creek."

Gallo softly swallowed as his master flipped his cape and vanished into the air. The knight cleaned the evidence of the blood sigils, mounted his horse and silently rode away from the creek, contemplating his master's orders.

* * *

Deep sorrow was the only thing that Rachel Dawes expressed as she walked through the castle's courtyard. All of its beauty was fading, shriveling into decay of burnt tawny chestnuts. Trees were bare as the arctic wind rattled their branches. Tiny bits of airy snow drifted from the cinereal clouds above, suggesting that heavy snowfall was brewing.

All she could think of was the unkindly fate of this kingdom. Alfred Pennyworth informed her about Maura and the young boy. The one that would take over the throne and become Gotham's new ruler. Each time her mind perceived those thoughts, she tried so hard to block out the grim future.

Lifting her chin to the formations of clouds, soft salty tears streamed down her frozen cheeks as her mind gathered memories of the past. She remembered the days that she spent with the young prince. The long conversations that they had while riding through the forest.

_The season of the harvest was almost at its end as two riders rode through the looming evergreen forest that was near the borders of the castle grounds. Prince Bruce, dressed in a deep ashen grey cloak, was guiding Shadowcast down the narrow passageway. His windswept chocolate hair was touched by the powerful wind._

_ "This is not a race, Bruce," Rachel called out after him. "It would be courteousness if you slowed down for me."_

_ Bruce rolled his ginger hazel eyes. "Why should I?" He teased._

_ Rachel shook her head. "Why do we even go into these woods, Bruce? She asked. "You know there are dangers in here."_

_ "Don't worry I'll protect you." Bruce affirmed as he dismounted and smacked his boots onto the frozen ground. Rachel followed him and grabbed the reign on her mare. Both of them walked to a small creek that had ice forming in the steady water._

_ Rachel patted the mare gently and then turned to face Bruce. "I know that you're hurting inside Bruce. I see that you're trying to mask the pain. But you must know that your parents' death was not your fault."_

_ Bruce's gaze hardened as his hand touched the bark of the tree, his head hung down. "It was my fault Rachel. You do not know what transpired that night. The horrors that I saw that cloaked devil do to my parents..." He was started to choke up as burning rage began to form inside of him. "What he almost did to me?"_

_ Rachel moved closer and placed her hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me Bruce." She whispered with kindness in her words. "I know how to keep a secret."_

_ "All these years I looked for the answers Rachel. I searched in these forests hoping that my vengeance would lead me down the path to where I could confront the monster that took their souls away, with no mercy." His eyes were combusting. "I remembered what he wanted do to me. Turn me into..." He gulped down. "A creature of the night that would be his prisoner until the very breath of life left me."_

_ "You're safe now Bruce." Rachel answered, placing her hand on his cheek. "You have a kingdom that needs you."_

_ Bruce's lips formed into a scowl. "I am not ready to rule my father's land. I need you to understand that."_

_ She nodded. "Very well. You need to know that this kingdom is crumbling down into a place filled with corruption and injustice. Its killing the very heart of this land, Bruce. The barons are filling the streets with immoral debasement - destroying everything that your father stood for. Do not be selfish."_

_ Bruce looked deeply into her eyes._

_ "There are good people in our kingdom Bruce. Ready to believe in hope. You just need to believe in yourself. If you do that then the crown you will wear will be your mark of victory."_

_ He nodded and kissed her tenderly on the forehead._

_ "I need you to promise me something Bruce?" Rachel asked. "Please stay away from the monster that you seek. He will destroy you. I could not live thinking that it was my fault for letting you go after him. You are my cherished friend."_

_ Bruce pulled himself closer. "No matter what happens Rachel, I will always cherish you."_

Rachel awoke from her thoughts and gazed at the small blossoming pink pale rose that was on a small branch of the rose bush. A sign of hope. "Come back to us, Bruce." She released a whisper. "Save your kingdom."

* * *

Bruce dawned his clothes with a passive expression after undergoing the most unpleasant experience in his life. "That is something I never want to do again," He mused to himself as he secured his cloak then marched out from from behind a tree and walked back into Ducard's small camp.

Nightfall was slowly approaching and right now, the Prince of Gotham felt he'd had enough lectures and training for the day. He wanted nothing more than to fall to slumber and forget the horrific pain of having his body transform into a bat. How could one suffer such an experience and live to speak of it?

"I hate magic." He muttered as he came to the log he recently had been shackled to.

"You will hate it much more then in the coming days. The dose you sampled was only enough to keep you in that shape for an hour."

Bruce glared at his teacher who stared into the fire with a distant look. Contemplating, he had come to call it. Bruce shrugged as he pulled a knife from his belt and began to carve a circle into a tree. A target image. If he would be forced to endure more lectures, he would vent his frustrations in the process. He collected a belt of throwing knives and secured it around his waist.

"How did you feel Bruce?" Ducard asked from his seat.

Bruce paused and bit back an angry retort. He calmly collected his thoughts and steadied his eyes on the target carved into the tree.

"Primal."

He drew a knife from the belt and threw it with great precision at the target. The knife embedded in the center.

"Trapped."

He threw another knife, landing it in the center.

"Fearsome."

He threw a third knife, landing it with the others in the center of his target. He exhaled as he recalled the experience. The transformation however unpleasant and painful as it was, the state of being in the shape of his greatest fear presented him with a greater desire for freedom. To inspire terror in his animalistic form. The shackle kept him restrained as he so often felt in his life but as he contemplated Ducard's words he knew that if he were free to roam in that form, he would be further lost than he already was in his humanity and his journey.

He didn't even know how far he was from home right now. Setting his gaze on the target ahead he continued pitching knives at it.

"Do you still fear such a creature, now that you have seen through the eyes of one?"

"...I don't know. I-I don't think I do." Bruce sighed and lowered his head timidly.

"Deep down, I think you don't."

"So what comes next?" Bruce asked evasively. He felt he needed more time to reflect over his experience. Ducard rose from his seat and moved around the camp to face his student.

"You have a little over a month to return home. Your body has adapted to a number of toxins and serums that would have killed you in larger doses at first. We have purged your fear and now all that remains is a demonstration of your commitment to justice."

"Your meaning?"

"In the coming week you will face your final test. In addition to your daily dosages of this potion, you must train your body hard and practice your tracking skills further in preparation of it."

"You wish me to consume more of that concoction!? Bruce exclaimed angrily.

"I wish you to develop a stronger sense of will!" Ducard snapped. "If your will was stronger, you could have fought the effects of the transformation instead of merely adapting. You could have escaped its entrapment at any moment instead of waiting for its effects to recede. Your training is nothing. Will is everything. Remember that."

Their conversation was interrupted by the noise of wheels traveling across the ground. Bruce spun his head in the direction of the forests and saw a guarded carriage making its way through. It was being driven by a masked League assassin, the doors were heavily secured by chains and locks. Ducard yelled orders in Arabic.

The guards nodded and began to drive the carriage around the ice lake, heading up the causeway that would lead them to the courtyard. Ducard reached for a pail of water and splashed out the fire in the camp.

"Come." Ducard gestured Bruce to follow him up the causeway.

Bruce followed him as the carriage wheeled its way into the courtyard where a formation of guards surrounded it. From the balcony of the castle, Ras al Ghul watched expectantly.

"Who is in the carriage?" Bruce inquired as they arrived in the courtyard.

Ducard directed his gaze to Ras al Ghul who yelled orders to him. Ducard nodded and turned to the men and issued the same command. Bruce watched as the guards began to release the chains and the locks securing the door.

They opened the door and dragged out an older man, bound in chains. His wrists were shackled along with his ankles. The man carried white hair and a white beard. His face was hardened and grim like a man who had seen and inflicted much death in his lifetime.

"Let off you bastards!" He yelled aggressively as he was being pushed towards the castle.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

"Who is he?"

"A mercenary who has taken many lives in his profession."

Bruce looked at Ducard in confusion. "An assassin? Would he not fit in among your ranks?"

"He does not serve the cause of justice as we do. He serves only the cause of wealth and infamy." Ducard replied coolly.

"What will become of him?"

"Justice. His crimes will not be tolerated. Criminals thrive on the indulgence of society's understanding and its indifference."

Ducard looked at Bruce intently. "You will face him in your final test."

Bruce furrowed his brow and stared at the criminal. The man in the shackles turned his head towards Bruce and fixed him with a hard stare through the one eye that was exposed. The right eye was gone. Torn out of his skull through an unknown incident he'd faced in his past.

Bruce raised his chin passively and nodded.

"I will be ready."

* * *

**A/N: Much of the credit goes to a dearest friend of mine for helping me write this chapter and overall the story. Enjoy the chapter and thank you so much for reading this wonderful story. Do not worry the next chapter will have lots of Diana and a few battle scenes.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

{Milan, Italy}

Airy snow twirled in the bleak December air as Princess Diana stood in the stables stroking Leya's mane. Her body had not grown accustomed to the wintery scenery as she realized this was the first time she had ever experienced the wonders of snowfall. She could only hear the soft sounds of horse hooves clicking on the frozen ground.

Her gentle ocean blue eyes had grown lighter as the shafts of the afternoon sun reflected in her hues of endless purity. She gazed at the flakes landing outside as her warm hand ran through the horse's thick dark mane.

Silently, Diana pulled on the silk white hood that was apart of her one piece white dress. It was a long smooth fabric that reached to the ground and was split up the lower front and back, giving her increased leg mobility. It had long split sleeves with sliver wrappings at the elbow. The split sleeves touched the tips of her gown, and left the flawless skin of her forearms exposed along with her bracers. Strands of her raven hair touched the center crease of her chest, held supported by laces running up the front and back of the dress like a bodice.

Beneath the dress, she wore a black gown, a corset and knee-high boots.

She tightened the laces to the front of her dress that left a generous amount of her chest exposed. She could tolerate the cold she felt which was not unbearable right now. She felt however that she would need to stop at a market and purchase a cloak for Winter Solstice.

She walked into the clear crisp air as stable boys gazed at her entrancing beauty, her flawless skin, her high cheek bones and her raven hair that flowed off her strong shoulders. Diana gave a pleasant nod to them as she advanced further away to the fence. She rested a hand on the warped wood and fell into her thoughts.

"What is my purpose in this new world that I have made myself become a traveler within?" She asked herself. "Will I become an example of truth and justice to the women I cross paths with? Or a protector to those who are weak?"

She walked further to the bare high dome trees with entwining branches above. She rested her body against a trunk as snow landed softly into her hair. This moment was freedom to her. Seeing new discoveries for the first time, touching cold ice from branches and beginning to understand the joys of life. All her dreams were coming true. This world was not the tragic nightmarish place that her mother warned her about when she was a child. It was something valuable to her own heart. A treasure that she would gladly defend with all her strength, skills and blade.

"Mother if you could only see this place," She muttered faintly as a distant charred smell of burning timbers caught her attention. She reacted without hesitation and bolted down the narrow path, her boots pushing forward through the snow.

Within moments, she had entered the grounds of a farm. Flames were rising from the burning barn as an older woman was frantically calling out her daughter's name. "Roselie," She yelled in distress. Tears were streaming down her round cheeks.

Diana raced towards her. "Please, tell me what has happened here?" She asked with a soft tone. "I would like to help you?"

The mother looked at the angelic princess with tearful eyes. "My daughter... she is trapped within the barn. I thought she was out..."

"Calm down." Diana placed her hand on the mother's shoulder. "I will save your daughter." She looked at the red hot flames streaking up the exterior of the barn. "What is her name?"

"Roselie."

Diana returned a nod and raced into the barn. She kicked down the door and smoke blew into her face as she coughed, feeling the thick ashy taste enter her lungs. There was no time to pause. She acted in haste and jumped onto the loft using her Amazon speed and grace. Her eyes peered at the piles of hay. "Roselie?" She coughed. "Roselie, can you hear me?"

The small whimper of a child came from a pile of logs. Diana crouched down and gazed at the small frail girl whose face was covered with tinges of ash and cinder. She looked lost and terrified. The princess felt a wave of compassion and tenderness for the child and the need to show reassurance.

Above them, the main support beams begin to groan as they catch fire. The princess knew there wasn't much time before it would collapse. She looked back at the child with an encouraging smile.

"Its going to be alright little one," Diana smiled, stretching out a hand. "I want you to take my hand. The flames are growing. We have to hurry, Roselie."

The girl responded and reached for Diana's hand. The princess scooped up the child in her arms and dropped from the loft. She raced out of the barn just as the support beams snapped and the roof collapsed within, spouting a gust of flames out of the doors behind her, just missing them.

The mother came forward with tears of relief in her eyes. "Roselie, you're alright!" She called out joyously. Diana handed the girl into the mother's arms then wiped the sweat from her brow.

"She is a brave child." The princess spoke in an earnest tone. "The gods protected her this day."

The mother rocked her daughter and gazed up at Diana with an overwhelming look of gratitude. "Thank you, fair maiden. We owe our lives to you."

Diana smiled warmly and gave a short nod. The mother looked at the timbers of the barn decreasing.

"What happened here?" Diana asked. "How was the fire started?"

"I don't know. This is not our property. My sister's husband." She replied, pointing to the group of approaching men carrying buckets. "They should have the fire contained."

Diana looked at the men putting out the flames and felt there was nothing more she could do here. "I must go now, for I am needed elsewhere." She answered. She nodded to the woman and smiled at the child then raced from the farm grounds and back in the direction of the narrow path of the forest.

Roselie looked at her mother.

"She was an angel wasn't she mother. Christi massa angelus."

* * *

When Diana arrived at the inn where she spent the last few nights with Alkyone, she wiped off the cinder marks from her cheeks before she reached the stables. Footsteps followed closely behind her. She stood there motionless listening as her attacker drew near.

She spun around, fists ready to react to her battle training.

"Princess," Alkyone halted with an upraised hand. "Stand down, I am of no threat."

Diana lowered her hands. "Alkyone, forgive the sudden..."

"No, I should have made myself known to your presence."

The princess nodded and moved closer to the stall where Leya stood.

Alkyone peered down at the white garment covered in ash. "Where did you wander off too?" She showed concern but mostly condescension.

"There was a fire. A little sister was in danger."

Alkyone shrugged. "So you entered the flames and performed a rescue?"

Diana nodded. "Yes. It felt good saving her life. Just like it felt worthwhile saving Leya." She whispered.

Alkyone's face became cold. "You're an immortal. The daughter of the Queen of the Amazons." She inhaled. "This world is not meant for you to confide yourself into, Diana. You won't able to make a life of justice and peace. They defile any women who goes that against their laws." She snarled almost like she was holding something back.

Diana's eyes burned towards her. "No. I will bring peace and truth to the hearts of men and women, Alkyone. No shackles will imprison me for the right of freedom."

"Why can't you understand that this world is not your home, princess? You are an outsider." She enunciated with a show of frustration but also a trace of empathy. She didn't wish for the princess to learn the hard way of how horrible and hopeless the people in this world could be.

Diana's jaw tensed. "I saved a life today, Alkyone. That child would have died in that those flames if I did not act."

"Mortal children die in this world, princess."

The princess's eyes fell. "Children..."

"That child is not like your sister Donna. She doesn't have immortality. Plagues enter their bodies. Cold hands of death will come upon them like a thief in a the night. It could be today or tomorrow, there is no stopping it. You can't save all the children in this world. You're a princess. Not a saint as they call "heroes" in villages like these."

Diana flinched at Alkyone's heartless bitter words. She stared at her with a tight look, restraining the emotions swamping her. "You haven't change your ways. You're still selfish."

Alkyone drew her blade out of anger. "Then let's settle this..." She growled, showing fury in her Tiger like eyes. "Come on dragon fight me!" She challenged. Years of dormant contempt and hate resurfaced inside of her.

Diana shook her head in dismay. "No. I will not start a pointless fight with you."

The rogue Amazon clenched her jaw. "Then you will die... I will spare you from the pain that you will witness. The lives you will cherish and lose because of death."

Diana grew in rage. She drew out her sword and pointed it at Alkyone. "The grace of the gods has left you, Alkyone. I will not let a betrayer of my mother have her vengeance. Let us make a pardon. Forgive each other on this day so that we can trust each other."

Alkyone refused. "You've always been a curse to our kind. The precious child of the queen. The gift of the gods."

"Enough. I will not hear these foul words from your tongue."

A look of resignation but also relief came over Alkyone.

"Very well." The rogue Amazon lowered her sword. "I will not fight you princess. This companionship is finished. You now travel alone. Heed my warning: don't underestimate the mortals. They will trick you and use you. No mortal on this earth is pure of heart. They all have dark sides. If you don't follow the instincts that flow through your veins only grief will enter your soul."

Diana's lips tightened.

Alkyone bowed her head. and raised the hood of her red cloak over her shaved head. "I wish you well on your journey, princess. If we meet again, I pray this world has not gotten the best of you." She walked away.

Diana stood alone next to her mare, sword still in hand but a frown of disappointment working its way across her face as she watched her guide take her leave.

* * *

On the shores near the ice-lake, beneath Ras al Ghul's fortress, Bruce Wayne stood alone beating his fists against a standing bag tied against a wooden palus imbedded in the ground. Not too far from him, other members of the Shadows are moving about near the forests setting up camp sites and practicing their own exercises.

By his own choosing, Bruce's morning rituals had been relegated towards his own release from the anger and frustration bubbling within him. Anger and frustration from the grueling training methods subjected to him each day since he learned of the turmoil waging within Gotham. That and the nightmares.

They never went away.

Almost each night he saw his mother and father being turned into blocks of stone and left to crumble beneath the feet of an evil tormentor who, despite having not been seen for many years, still haunted the prince's dreams with a promise of pain and torture in the future. Bruce no longer feared his threats nor whatever dark power he wielded. Where there was once fear, there was now a barrel of hatred.

His fists pummeled against the bag filled with sand with relentless speed and strength. His expression which began as passive slowly contorted into a face of fury as images flashed through his mind of his parents falling years ago, barons tormenting the weak and poor... and of he himself having done nothing to stop it.

"Will is everything..." The voice in his mind condemned him.

Teeth bared in a feral snarl, he lashed at the bag with a vicious swing, tearing through the casing and spilling the sand onto the ground before him. He stared at it pouring onto the ground as if it were a waterfall. For but a moment, he saw red in his eyes before he blinked away, feeling slightly perturbed. He took in steady breaths, willing his anger to dissipate before setting his eyes on his swords at his back. He eyed the palus and resigned himself towards continuing his practice.

He unsheathed his swords and began making cuts and swings against the wooden man-sized stake. Practicing his accuracy and his speed for offensive combat. He heard a shuffling of footsteps approaching and looked up to see Ras al Ghul himself approaching with a single guard and Ducard beside him.

"You breathe fire this day, Young Prince." Ras drawled as he approached.

Bruce paused momentarily to regard them.

"I breathe vengeance." Bruce growled as he continued his exercises, only sparing a short glance at Ducard who watched him knowingly.

"Do not dispel it completely on that wooden stake. You will need that fire soon." Ras looked at Ducard and nodded before walking away, his guard shadowing him as they ventured towards the camps near the forest.

Ducard remained behind and watched Bruce closely as he continued swinging at the palus with precise thrusts and unrelenting speed. The concealed fury of a man in turmoil. "I see you've learned to bury your guilt with anger." Ducard said suddenly causing Bruce to pause for the slightest of moments before he resumed his barrage.

"But you seem to have learned to control it, and not let it control you. Can the same be said for figura-versis?"

Bruce stopped to regain his breath and shot his mentor a hard stare. "I do not see how that vile substance will be of help to me in the future. What sort of malevolent foe would seek to do me harm by transformation?"

"Other than the one that killed your mother and father?" Ducard shot back calmly.

Bruce clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles were white with the sword in his grip.

"You know he can harm you no longer," Ducard's tone was almost reassuring if not encouraging. "With this internal shield you are building through your training, his threats will be as meaningless as wood against steel."

Bruce silently considered Ducard's words before he shook his head. "I don't need this sort of training to face him. You've taught me enough to make me ready for him. You said yourself, "Will is everything."" He retorted, continuing his exercises.

Ducard smirked. "Quite so. A lesson I hope you've truly learned from mistakes long passed."

Bruce glared at him while continuing his weapon thrusts against the palus. "Your meaning?"

"Your parents death was not your fault... It was your father's."

Bruce stopped dead still in mind-swing against the palus. He glared at Ducard with fury. "How dare you. My father fought to the last man. He died defending my mother and I from that monster."

"Not just that monster, but a band of gypsies and thieves he had so mercifully pardoned from Castle Blackgate. Not to mention the lack of swift response from the ever so loyal and honorable Gotham Knights. Traitors your father should've been attentive to." His voice dripped with scorn.

"He dispensed justice as he saw fit." Bruce replied somberly.

"And look at the result of it. The king and queen are dead. Gotham is reaching the pinnacle of its decadence, and its heir is at a crossroads. Finding himself..." Ducard let his words sink into his novice. Bruce broke his stare, but his expression still wore the same look of anger. "Keep your feet on the proper path Bruce. Its the only way you'll be able to save Gotham."

"And this proper path begins at my final test?" Bruce asked curiously.

"The proper path began with your training. The final test will prove not only your commitment to true justice, but your place among us. It is the start of restoration for you and Gotham. Your test begins at dawn tomorrow."

Ducard turned to leave, then paused and looked over his shoulder. "Continue building your resistance towards the potion. Despite your displeasure towards it, you'll soon find that "will" derives not only from the spirit but from the body as well."

Bruce watched as Ducard turned away and followed after Ras towards the forests where a small portion of the assassins were occupied. The adrenaline from his exercise not abated, Bruce swung his swords with frustration at the palus, Ducards words still resonating in his mind with each swing.

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

Princess Diana gently walked Leya with a rope looped around the mare's neck through the deadly squalls of snow. Only a couple hours of enduring the bitter winds from the North made her bones freeze. Her jaw bone felt locked and her blood was pumping in her ears. It had been days since she left Milan. Before departing the city, she'd purchased a heavy white cloak to cover her white dress that left parts of her flesh exposed against  
the cold winter winds. It made her journey slightly more bearable.

She felt the strength of the gods to push ahead to a nearby clearing. A strange unsettled feeling shivered down her spine. Sea water eyes focused on the shadows that formed around the trees.

"Steady girl," Diana calmly said. "There's nothing to fear. I will protect you."

Leya nudged Diana's shoulder.

She gazed at the drifts of snow flakes falling from the ashen clouds above. The sun was dimming in between the Italian mountains. Diana prepared herself by pulling on her white cloak's hood. She rubbed her hands together.

"Why would Alkyone, betray me?" She asked herself, deep in thought. "I trusted her with my life. Mother did give me a heavy warning that the rogue Amazon held a heartless grudge agaisnt me. Still there might've been a chance for a new friendship if she forgot the past ways."

Diana now knew what her mother tried to warn her about the betraying Amazon. Her boots dug deep into the snow as she pulled Leya further. Her mare was now her only companion after being abandoned by her own guide and sister. She would keep her mare closer now than ever.

"Come on girl, just a little more. I know that you're strong. Don't fail me now." She stroked the mare's hair warmly.

It had been days since they'd left Milan, and the journey seemed to be taking a toll on her steed. Diana didn't have a clear destination in mind when she'd left, she decided to venture to the next city and see what else she might discover in Man's World.

Leya was breathing heavily, her back legs were shaking.

Diana turned to face her chestnut mare and stroked her long sloped forehead. "Easy, my Leya," She spoke in a whispering tone. "I will not push you any further."

All of a sudden, Diana heard a noise. A whirling movement in the high branches. She reached for the saddle sack and drew out her blade. Her lasso hung next to it. Staring at the trees, observing the shadows that followed her steady gaze, she thought her eyes saw something. A figure moving in stealth. "My eyes were deceiving me, Leya. There is nothing."

The horse jerked her body and started backing away.

"Leya!" Diana called out.

An arrow buzzed by her head, landing in the tree trunk behind her. Diana crossed her arms preparing to deflect the incoming arrows. Another arrow flew in the wind. She ducked before it grazed her arm. Right there she knew that she wasn't alone. There was no feeling retaliation against the unknown opponent. She stood her ground, hand gripping her sword.

Another arrow came from the direction of the thick evergreen. Diana was alert and deflected the arrowhead off her silver bracer. She caught another with her bare-hand before it impacted her flesh. Dropping the arrow into the snow she advanced closer to the tree.

"Enough!" Diana stated boldly, peering at the shadow crouched on a tree branch. "I mean you no harm."

No more arrows were aimed at her. Within a moment, a slender hooded figure dropped in front of Diana. Darken features with deep chocolate eyes burning. She charged at her with a bow and a straight arrow ready. Diana lifted her sword.

"You're a stranger to this forest." The cloaked woman hissed. "You're not welcome here."

Two elusive forms of shade stepped forth from the evergreen trees. Silver granite moonlight eyes glared at Diana as sharp fangs dug into the flesh of their gums. She knew that these creatures were wolves by the pointed ears and their sloping noses.

"We don't take kindly to strangers, around here." The attacker said, bellowing her voice as she moved closer to Diana, arrow was pointed down. "Why you have entered my territory?"

"I am traveling alone." Diana confessed in a direct tone. "I did not mean to trespass."

The wolves snarled furiously, fangs gleaming as shafts of sunlight poked out from the ashen winter sky. They surrounded Diana within mere seconds prepared to strike, claws were digging in the frozen ground.

"Trespassing is a crime that I will not take lightly," The woman removed her hood, showing a face of a young raven haired maiden, hint of darker skin tone and autumn lips. "My wolves are prepared to obey my every command. I will only ask once more, "why have you entered my domain?""

Diana straightened herself, showing no weakness or fear. "I will not cause any harm. Just let me pass." She lowered her sword and held her arms up in a gesture of peace, with gentle eyes looking at the young woman. "I will not fight you. Lower your weapon."

She considered, lowering her bow and arrow. A hand gestured to the wolves to stand down. She stood and faced Diana with piercing eyes glaring as if she were looking into the princess' very soul.

Her arrow rose, nearly touching Diana's forehead. "I will not fight you." She answered. "Nor will I condemn you into shackles."

Diana stood motionless unafraid and stubborn. She was ready to strike down and fight for her freedom from this scourging opponent. The boldness of Amazon thinking was taking effect as she watched the woman's eyes narrow. "So we have met an agreement. You will let me pass."

"I rarely let strangers pass through my forest. Most don't make it out alive." She stepped back and crouched down, wrapping her sleeved arm around the jet wolf's thick neck. "Consider this is a pardon for you have a pure spirit." She pointed her hand at Diana. "You care for all creatures of this earth. My wolves will not see you as a threat."

Diana nodded. "What is your name?" She picked up her sword.

"Why would I instruct myself to tell you my name?"

"I am Diana. Princess of the Amazons." She declared.

* * *

The woman arose and advanced closer. "Diana," She tested that name out. "You may call me Helena the Huntress." Her eyes fell to the wolves lying in the snow. "Protector of the forest."

Light sleet was starting to fall down as the temperature was decreasing by the minutes. "Winters breath is harsh this time of the year. Come, my cottage is not far from the frozen river."

Diana looked surprised. "You're inviting into your dwelling? I thought I was a stranger."

"You were until you gave me your name, Diana." Helena answered, looking down at the wolves. "Come," she ordered.

"The wolves, are they your pets?"

"Yes, I raised them when they were cubs. Their mother was killed by burly hunters last December. The blood of slain creatures will be avenged." She declared, shaking her fist in the bleak air.

"Animals are of great importance to our lives." Diana answered, walking over to Leya.

"Your horse must be thirsty. Follow me and I will give her water."

Diana smiled gratefully. "You're a kind sister, Helena."

Helena turned around with a curious eyebrow raised. "Sister?"

"A title we Amazons call all women who befriend us."

Helena paused in her tracks for a moment. "I sense that you experienced a deception within your travels. Trust was broken and that is why you travel alone, is it not?"

"Yes..." A gloomy look came over the princess. "The person that I came here with, separated from me to follow her own ways." Diana replied coldly. "I always sensed that she was hiding something. I should've listen to my instincts and known she would not have stayed loyal to me. After all, she was the one that almost slayed me as an infant." Diana padded Leya's forehead with a somber look. "Now I feel so alone in this new world of discovery."

"No one is ever alone, Diana." Helena responded. "Now come, nightfall is coming upon us."

Diana guided Leya as they followed the Huntress and her shadowy companions into a narrow path of snow covered evergreens. Icicles chimed as the cold wind tussled through the pine branches.

Helena kept her guard up. "Careful, she warned. "Some of the creatures that dwell here are unfriendly to humans. Stay sharp and guard your horse. They like to go for the legs."

Diana returned a nod. She was memorized by the gleaming sights of purity that formed on the ground. Helena's boots lugged into the thick shafts of winter. "Be careful. Unforgiving snow shows no mercy to wary travelers. Only weakness."

Helena listened to the sounds of movement that surrounded her. She rose her bow.

Diana watched the Huntress's face darken. "Trouble?"

"Precaution," She breathed, lowering her bow. The wolves whom walked by her side bolted forward. "Stoda and Kova will scour the area. They will howl once the coast in clear. I suggest me move in haste."

"What dangers are out here, Helena?"

"Bandits. Packs of gypsy filth that bring only bad luck and hold the animal's captive in cages. They mostly go after the bears. Turning them into amusement for pleasure and greed. No good comes out of their company."

"Have you retaliated to saved the captive beasts?" Diana asked, angry by this discovery.

"I didn't give myself the name 'Huntress' for a random reason. My arrows have pierced many hearts. I never go after children or women. That is my one rule that I carry out." She paused. "There is one beast that deserves no pity. A cursed soul that was used by filth for witchcraft. She hunts for blood. Always at night."

Diana felt suddenly interested. "This cursed soul is a woman?"

"You mean "was a woman", of flesh and blood. Now a demon."

Stoda's howl sounded off in the distance.

"Clear," Helena announced.

"My mother told me about witchcraft. That evil spirits lie within shells of women causing suffering and misery onto others."

"Witches are real in these lands, Diana. I have hunted down many. Blood of children is on their lips. They devour innocence and destroy the formation of human life. I pray that you never cross one."

Diana looked at the silver cross shape pendent around Helena's neck. "The necklace?" She asked.

"A symbol of my faith and justice. My mother gave it to me when I was seven." A forlorn look crossed the Huntress' face before she blinked it away. "That is in the past. I can never look back. I only go into the direction that is chosen for me."

Diana followed closely behind as they continued towards Helena's home.

* * *

The smooth yet tight string of the bow in his fingers inspired not too fond memories of past arguments with Rachel to resurface in Bruce's mind as he aimed at his target. Once he'd taken his frustrations out on the palus, he had settled towards calming his mind. Meditation was a helpful exercise but right now he felt he needed to settle himself into all avenues of his craft before his test tomorrow.

His gaze settled on a target board hanging against the stump of a tree near the forests. He wore a quiver of arrows at his back as he held up his bow and released a single arrow, allowing it to sing into the air and imbed itself in the direct center. He felt glad to see his marksman skills hadn't suffered in his long inactivity of the bow. Not his preferred weapon of choice, but one he took pride in mastering for any unforeseen danger he may find himself in.

"Your aim is exceptional." A British accent spoke in observation.

Bruce glanced to his right where nearby sat a medicus for the Shadows sitting on a bench, tending to the wound of an assassin, injured from a proving test currently underway within the forests where Ducard and Ras had ventured to.

"I've had years of practice before coming here." Bruce replied, readying another arrow.

"Fortunate. You've excelled in your training from what I've gathered. It should prove helpful to you tomorrow when you go out there." The medicus gestured his head in the direction of the forests.

Bruce followed his gaze and sighed. "You've seen many final tests performed doctor?" He released the arrow. It landed within the center with the other. He reached for another arrow in constant pace.

"I have." The medicus wrapped a bandage around the wincing assassin's torso. "Nervous about yours?"

Bruce glanced at him and released the arrow without looking, it landed with equal accuracy. The medicus raised his eyebrows.

"What happens to the recruits who fail?" Bruce asked curiously.

The medicus looked hesitant as he finished applying the bandage to the solider. "Actum," the medicus nodded to the assassin who rose and wandered off. He looked at Bruce and sighed. "That would depend on your definition of "fail".

"Is there more than one way of failing?" He reached for another arrow.

"Besides getting killed by your opponent? Yes, but it is not within my authority to divulge. The final tests are matters of secrecy and are to be treated as such among recruits, such as yourself."

Bruce shrugged however he maintained a look of understanding. He released his arrow. It collided in the middle.

"Any advice you could lend me?"

"Yes..." Bruce met the medicus' stare. "Whatever you face, there is no turning back from once you pass. Whatever decision you make, make it with your will committed towards it. Only then will you prove yourself as one of us." The medicus revealed a brand on his wrist with the Mark of the Demon.

Bruce lowered his bow slightly as he contemplated his words. Up ahead in the forests, out walked Ducard and Ras al Ghul with a group of assassins all cheering a new recruit who stood ahead of them, arm raised up in victory showing a freshly inflicted brand on his skin.

"He passed his test," the medicus nodded towards the assassin who both Ducard and Ras acknowledged with nods of approval before they headed towards the causeway leading up to the courtyard of the castle.

"Tomorrow comes your moment of truth, Your Highness." The medicus nodded towards Bruce then turned and wandered off to carry on his duties.

Bruce stood in deep thought for a few minutes before his attention shifted to a small entourage of riders making their way into the clearing from the forests. He paused from his practice and took in the scene. 10 riders, all dressed in black, being lead by a female rider. Bruce's expression turned wary as he recognized Ducard's daughter, Talia, slowly making her way along the shoreline of the ice-lake, circling towards the causeway, leading the pack. He kept a passive expression as she rode along passed him, sending him a dark wry smile.

Bruce stared after her and the riders, feeling perplexed and disquieted.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

Hours after gentle conversions in front of a kindling flame...

Princess Diana sat on the wooden floor as Helena stood at a small carved wooden table surveying maps as her lips formed a straight line. Her white cloak hung on a hanger at the wall along with Helena's robe. Stoda was curled into a ball, his head was tucked near his stomach as Kova sat outside the doorway, overseeing the area with her silver metallic eyes.

Diana turned her head and looked at the mighty elusive creature. "Helena,"

The huntress raised her head with and looked at Diana with an intense gaze. "Yes?" she asked, looking at the raven haired angelic beauty that gave off a soft glow from her body as she smiled. "Is there something you wish to address with me, Diana?"

Diana had felt conflicted about pressing the woman she only just met, whose home she was now taking shelter in. Diana had not missed the painful look on Helena's face when she mentioned her past. The compassionate side of Diana, her empathy felt the need to reach out to this young woman.

She met Helena's stare with sincere look. "What happened to your family?"

Helena hardened her eyes. "That is not a conversation among new found friends." She repeated with an edge in her voice. She studied the Amazon seated across from her. "I sense that you desire to see your family that live beyond these borders; perhaps far off someplace on a distant shore. Your sisters?"

Diana gave a short nod, her expression turned remorseful. "I do miss my mother and my younger sister Donna." She downcast her eyes to the floor. "I left my home world without saying goodbye to them. Sometimes I wonder, "what if I never see them again?" I know what I did was a crime in my mother's eyes and I would gladly pay just to hear her voice again."

Helena moved to the window and gazed at the snowflakes falling outside. "Sometimes we have to part with our loved ones and go on a life's journey that takes us on many roads. We find dangers and strangers along the way. Once we've reached the crossroads, our hearts realize that there is no place like home."

She narrowed a teary gaze to the silver cross around her neck. "If you must know, my family was killed when I only a child. Their souls were taken before my eyes from a pale demon that showed to mercy." Her face turned wrathful. "One day an arrow will enter his stone cold heart. Pierce the very flesh that he conceals that dark soul of his within. Then he will know what the cold touch of death feels like."

Diana arose from the floor and approached Helena slowly, remorse in her tone. "I am sorry for your loss."

Helena looked into Diana's ocean blue eyes that were so full of compassion, it felt like a calming storm. Somehow it wasn't too difficult to confide in her. "I will see them again. They are not lost to me forever."

"You speak with hope in your voice..."

Helena looked back out the window. "Hope is all I have to cling to, Diana."

The Princess of the Amazons considered those words. Perhaps one day soon she would set things right with her own mother and sister. As of now, she felt glad to be in the company of this woman who despite having a vengeful heart was also a child of the wilderness who shared her own love and understanding towards nature. A woman she would feel glad to call "sister."

* * *

After Bruce had finished his morning exercises and rituals, he had taken the opportunity to indulge on his afternoon meal. He'd taken a bowl of stew from the cooks brewing the warm and nourishing meal, and separated himself from the rest of the assassins all eating close to each other at tables just outside of the training courtyard. They all ignored him except for the sentries who never let him escape their eyes. In the months he'd been here, he had never once sat down among them to eat a meal, and as of now they didn't expect him to.

Bruce sat at the edge of the courtyard on a parapet that faced out over the ice-lake and the forests below. He ate his food quietly as his gaze settled on the horizon beyond the forests and the mountains. He could not see his kingdom from here, if it even resided in the direction of which he looked.

"I see not much has changed in you since last we spoke," A haughty feminine voice spoke from behind him. "You still set yourself apart from our company as though you were an outsider. An outcast."

Bruce glanced over his shoulder and could see Ducard's daughter Talia striding towards him with a canteen of water in her hands. The Prince of Gotham shrugged as he finished his stew and climbed off the edge and back onto his feet. She wore a black instructor's outfit not too dissimilar to the rest of the assassins. It accommodated her shape favorably. Her brown hair was tied back in a small tail.

"The men have accepted you. That much is apparent." She held out a canteen towards him. "So why do you isolate yourself from their brotherhood?" Her tone is nonchalant but her question and her gesture garner nothing except a glare from the man in front of her who looked from the canteen then to her distrustfully.

"Refresh yourself, Prince of Gotham," Talia insisted with a firm tone.

"After you." He retorted.

Talia eyed him with scrutiny as she began to suspect the reason for his refusal. She smirked at him coyly as she opened the canteen and took a long drink of the water inside. Bruce watched as she dramatically placed a hand at her throat and gasped - mocking him.

He shook his head as he snatched the canteen from her hand and drank from it.

Talia chuckled at him. "I can see my father has already subjected you to his unprecedented form of training."

Bruce handed her back the canteen with an unamused look.

"Not a very pleasant experience I am sure you would agree. How fares your progress?" She leaned back against the parapet beside him. They watched as the other assassins took formation in the courtyard and resumed their training.

Bruce shrugged. Somehow he had hoped he would be done here before Talia had returned. He wasn't sure why she was interested in befriending him if that's what she was doing. Her covetous looks from afar often told otherwise. But he had made it his priority not to make any friends here. Not even with his mentor who he conferred with each day.

As much as he could not afford companionship here, he could also not afford more conflict with the other assassins, especially now that he was close to home. Glancing at his mentor's daughter, he decided it wouldn't be costly to answer a few of her questions.

"Vast. But incomplete. There is much my body has yet to endure and adapt to." He replied.

Talia nodded, impressed with his not so arrogant response. A far change from the boy she saw dragged into this castle months ago who believed himself to be better than those surrounding him. A boy that was now a well-endowed specimen before her. She couldn't resist a leer as she looked over his powerful build. Much of him did change in the months she'd been gone.

"You've not yet answered my question, Bruce." She reminded him.

Bruce continued to watch the assassins train and practice their weapon exercises.

"Why distance yourself? My father approves greatly of you. Our leader - the great Ras al Ghul - believes you hold promise among our ranks." She continued, knowing he was still listening despite his lack of verbal response. "They believe you to be our future." A hint of displeasure crept into her tone.

Bruce turned his head and met her stare. "I am not one of you, Lady Talia. My stay here will not be definite. Your father knows this. So does Ras al Ghul. Its why I haven't felt the need to become acquainted with and grow attachments among the men and women here." He said tersely, his firm tone showing he wouldn't be deterred. "Tomorrow will be my last night here."

"If you pass the final test," she interjected.

"I have no plans to fail. It is but a ragtag mercenary I am to face."

Talia smirked condescendingly. "That is where you are wrong. For your sake Prince of Gotham, I hope you do not think that your victory is assured in your trials towards knighthood among the League of Shadows." She chided him.

"What does it matter to you if I fail?" He challenged with a vexed tone. "Since I've come here, the only encouragement I have received from you is towards visiting your bedroom at the dead of the night." He rebuffed.

"Having second thoughts, beloved?" She pressed him with a suggestive leer.

Bruce shrugged with an irritated frown. "That was not my point." Bruce ignored her affectionate or rather flirtatious pet name she'd dubbed him with since they'd met.

"The point is, Prince of Gotham, is that you will either succeed and the League and your kingdom will prosper in the future, or you fail and the League of Shadows - my father and I - face a setback towards its cleansing. The Great Ras al Ghul does not tolerate failure among his ranks."

Bruce nodded with a hint of apathy in his eyes. "So you and your father face punishment if I don't live up to my expectations?"

"That is a way of putting it."

A tense silence follows as they watch the training continue. Bruce wasn't sure what to say in regards towards her admission of consequence if he were to fail in his last test. He felt certain that if he shared a more profound bond with Ducard and his daughter then he might feel a sentiment towards their fate. Gazing at Talia beside him, he could detect a concealed trepidation. Grief. Towards what, he wasn't sure, but it made him curious.

"Why not leave then? Why stay here and entrust your fate to the success of a wayward prince in exile?"

Talia breathed deeply and sighed. "You would not believe the evil and cruelty that exists out in the world. You yourself have never ventured beyond your homeland. You only tasted a sample of that evil when you were a child."

Bruce hardened his gaze at her.

"I've lived it my whole life." She continued, her eyes stoic and afar. "I lost my mother when I was younger than you. My sister Nisha but a few years later..." A dark look came over Talia as her mind seemed to become locked in a chamber of despair and hatred. "But I wasn't alone. I had a protector... A good friend who made me feel safe and determined. He helped me find my father, who gave us a home."

She met Bruce's stare with a deadly ire. "I have thrived ever since. The Shadows is my home. That will never change."

Bruce followed her story intently and felt a sense of remorse towards it. But he wouldn't show empathy, as he swore to himself here he would not make friends nor lovers. Thinking over Talia's words, he asked another curious question.

"What became of your friend?"

Talia turned away from him and set her stare back towards the training. She was silent a long moment and just as Bruce suspected she wouldn't answer his question, she spoke in a tight voice that held restrained anger.

"The great Ras al Ghul didn't believe my friend was worthy of the Shadows, so for the past few years he has sent him into perilous territories, carrying out special tasks to prove himself."

Bruce nodded. "But you don't believe he will be accepted, despite everything." His tone implied it was no question.

Talia breathed deep and looked at him with a considerate look. "If all goes accordingly, then Ras al Ghul will reward my father and I for our service, and my friend may yet be given a home." She steps forward off the parapet to take her leave.

Bruce watched her, feeling confused by her words. "Why would Ras al Ghul award you for my success?" It was her father Ducard who was responsible for his training after all.

Talia kept walking away, a devious smile spread across her face. "My reward comes towards a service after your success..."

She disappeared out of the courtyard, leaving Bruce puzzled.

* * *

Bruce sat in brooding silence within his chambers in Ras al Ghul's castle. He stared long and hard at his reflection in the high mirror mounted against the wall across from him. The room itself was dimly lit by a single candle placed on the vanity beside his bed. It was very early in the morning, and with winter climbing over the mountains, it left him in a comfortable darkness, warmed bright by the knowledge this would be the last day he would have to spend within this castle. Tomorrow he would return to his kingdom.

3 months, 29 days, 5 hours...

The Prince of Gotham was not so much vexed about how long he had been away from home, but amazed at how much he had learned in the that time period. Each day was a relentless tide of honing his craft in combat, studying the history of the world and learning its languages and cultures. He went without rest and without pause unless it necessitated his recuperation from injuries sustained during his grueling training sessions. As of now he felt he was ready for any test Ras al Ghul would set him towards.

He was ready to be finished here...

His thoughts were interrupted as he could hear footfalls echoing outside his room. A single set. The prince already knew who it was as he could hear a ring of keys jingle and the door unlocked to his far right. Through his peripheral vision, he could see the wooden door open and Ducard stepped in quietly and leaned back against the closed door, surveying the room and its occupant.

"I did not expect you have risen this early before you were to be brought to your final test, Bruce."

Bruce did not respond as he averted his gaze back to his reflection in the mirror, studying the bearded, long haired stranger gazing back at him with stoic eyes. Ducard was unsurprised by his lack of response as he took in the shape of the room and the empty flask resting on the floor of the room.

"The men mentioned screams coming from your room."

Still no response. Ducard released a condescending smile.

"You still have not learned control, have you? The curse of transformation is often the most difficult to fight and adapt to."

Bruce decided to break his silence after releasing a rough sigh.

"I managed to pull myself from its hold... Twenty minutes after consumption."

Ducard looked thoughtful. "After 10 small dosages. The effects become more potent, longer lasting when higher the dosage. You still have much more to consume to develop your adaptation and resistance."

Bruce shrugged as he rose from his seat and faced his mentor.

"I no longer have time for that. I have to get home within a month before I lose my throne."

"And you shall. But your training doesn't end here," Ducard implied with hidden intent to which Bruce was soon assessed.

"You would come with me? To Gotham?" The prince was bewildered.

Ducard nodded.

"Not just I. The entire league armada will rally behind you as you march home. If you complete your final test that is."

Bruce silently contemplated this sudden news from his mentor. Not once had Ducard discussed the League of Shadows following him back to Gotham in the months he had been here. And now that he was so close to home, he was soon left with many more questions as well as concerns, yet right now only one question was most relevant.

"Me - lead the League of Shadows? Why? Why would they follow me? You never once told me anything about any of this." His tone held a hint of protest as well as reproach.

Ducard stared blankly at his suspicious novice. His expression betrayed nothing as he held his arms folded in front of him. "First survive your final test... then we shall discuss this at length."

Before Bruce could protest further and demand further answers, Ducard held up a hand to silence him. "There will be no debate. What you face ahead is no common fugitivus. The hour is early. Get some more rest."

Bruce shrugged as he turned towards the window at the wall of his chamber. He could feel the winter breeze entering through the shutters.

"Sleep will not come to me tonight."

"Then refresh yourself. You will need all your strength and your wits about you for this."

Just as quickly as Ducard had entered, he turned and left Bruce to think over what he'd just learned.

Nothing had changed in him in those 3 months since he had been brought here. He still did not trust that he had been solely brought here to learn combat and discipline towards becoming a knight. Whatever true purpose Ras intended for him, the prince felt they would soon be brought to light now that he was at the end of his time here in the mountains with them.

* * *

Hours after Ducard's early visit, Bruce had taken his advice towards refreshing himself in preparation for his final test. He rises from his wooden tub filled with hot water after thoroughly bathing himself. His wet body reacted to the cold air and he repressed a shudder as he dried himself off then approached the high mirror at the wall. He gazed over his long wet hair and his beard before he reached for a knife on the vanity and grabbed a handful of each and began to cut them off.

By the time he was done, his hair was shorter and resembled its original stature from when he had first been brought here. His beard was gone and left a strong chiseled chin in place. He stared at his reflection for a long moment, scrutinizing every sharp detail and pronounced feature on his visage. His hazel-green iris' fell tepid as he turned and gazed at his ceremonial armor laying on his bed.

"Its time." He began dawn his armor. He started with his Calcutta black tunic and his fitted black trousers. They felt very warm and comfortable and would give him fine mobility in combat. He set his gaze on the boots. They were stealth designed and like his clothing, designed for comfort and mobility. Knee high, in a polished black leather with the tips giving the indentations of two large toes, covered by a small plate of armor.

"Ninja," he recalled the word Ducard had used to describe them. He laced them up and secured them with a buckle at the outside top. He stuffed the bottom of his trousers inside. Next came his black leather gloves which held a small plate of armor on the backhand. Then his gauntlets on top of them. They were engraved as the plates on the back of his gloves. He traced the edge of the scallops at the side of the gauntlets. They were sharp. Sharp enough to cut through metal.

He secured black plated armor pads to his knees and elbows, then larger ones to his shoulders. Finally came his torso armor. It covered his back and front, covered high to his mid-chest, held together by large leather straps that would fall onto his shoulders. The leather covering the armor fell loose at the bottom, creating a small loin cloth. He secured it with a piece of black cloth around his waist as a make-shift belt.

Once he was done, he stood in front of the mirror and observed himself. What he wore wasn't the ideal garb of a royal prince, but the armor of an emerging warrior. Somehow the look and the feeling of the black armor and clothing made him feel more of worth than any princely robe ever did.

That sentiment should have left him with a feeling of disquiet and self-loathing, as he wondered what his father would think of him now. Would he approve? He stowed the thought away for now as he could hear a knock on his door. He turned his head as the door opened and in stepped Lady Talia, dressed in her own uniform.

She stopped at the door and looked over his appearance with covetous eyes as if he were a prize-winning trophy. A wicked smirk came over her as she stepped in and observed him closer. "My, you certainly are of a form. I almost didn't recognize you."

Bruce offered her a small not so genuine smile. "I thought the same," he whispered to himself as he studied his face.

"The armor suits you, you know." She stood behind him and gazed at their reflections in the mirror with a look of gratification. Bruce kept his gaze on himself in his own reflection while she continued leering at him. "But now its time to see if you truly deserve to wear it, Prince of Gotham." She whispered near his ear.

She stepped away from the mirror and strode towards the door.

"They are waiting for you." She closed the door behind her.

Bruce took a deep breath and turned his gaze away from the mirror. He wasn't sure how his father would feel of the path he was taking now, but he felt certain he wouldn't be at ease with himself until he was back in Gotham, setting things right. He turned his gaze to a black mask on his bed, quilted to leave only his eyes exposed.

"I will make you proud father..."

He picked up the mask and strode away from his room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

The morning sun stood high above, veiled by gloomy grey clouds as Bruce marched into the courtyard with an unwavering stride in his steps, eyes filled with a renewed confidence and determination. To his expectations, he found the area vacant. The December winds whipped against his face but with his armor covered body, he felt comfortably warm.

Eyes surveying the area upon entry, he could spot only one familiar shape standing off near the parapet, gazing at the scene below the courtyard. Talia Ducard. Despite his misgivings towards her advances, he wouldn't deny what an exotic beauty she was. Even now as she stood in her armor not too dissimilar from his own, it accentuated her curvy shape favorably. His years coming into manhood, he had grown to notice and favor the opposite sex a lot more. His station as a prince however limited his interactions with them. That and his reclusive nature.

It had been sometime since he laid eyes on a beautiful woman. His thoughts drifted to the gypsy he once encountered in the forests years ago. Another mysterious yet dangerous creature that had intrigued and attracted him. He couldn't discern what it was about Talia that equally enticed but concerned him. Perhaps it was the knowledge she was his mentor's daughter or the omissions left in the air after each encounter with she and her father. Perhaps it was all these reasons that left him guarded around her.

Even now as he approached her, he did so warily. He let his steps sound to not arouse surprise. Hearing his approach, Talia turned away from the parapet and faced him entirely - giving him a provocative once-over. Bruce offered a small smirk at her.

"Come to see me off? How kind of you."

"I came to wish you luck." She responded sincerely.

Bruce shook his head. "I have no need for it. I don't believe in luck."

"Then how about some advice?"

Bruce stopped in front of her and looked down into her pale blue eyes, unsure of her intentions but deciding to take heed. He nodded his acceptance and watched as a confident smile came over her enchanting face.

"I know you don't believe yourself to be one of us. But if you truly wish to restore balance to the world - to your kingdom - you must invest in it. The League of Shadows is your investment - your weapon and your resource."

Bruce considered her a moment. "Sometimes such investments don't bear fruit."

An affronted look came over Talia. "You doubt us? You doubt my father who has given you the tools you need to become the perfect warrior? You doubt the great Ras al Ghul who is prepared to give you legion to secure your throne?"

Bruce timidly sighed. "That wasn't my meaning."

Talia studied him carefully and a look of realization came over her. "You doubt yourself."

Bruce gave no response as he looked away, suddenly feeling exposed under her stare and soon began to wonder why he was even indulging this conversation. He felt a tremor of exhilaration as he felt Talia's finger touch his jaw and gently bring his gaze back towards her. She leaned forward and up towards him.

"You mustn't." She incited. "Do what's necessary... and you will succeed." Her tone turned raspy and seductive which inspired tantalizing feelings within the young Prince as she brought her lips close and pressed them against his in a heated kiss.

Bruce was frozen, unsure of himself until he felt his body respond - hands grabbing her arms, holding her close and his lips boldly moving against hers. Talia's arms circled his back and waist. Bruce wasn't sure what he was doing. It had been so long since he felt a woman's touch. It ignited him inside, making him feel determined and vigorous. With his mentor's daughter no less...

Logic and trepidation returned and Bruce soon broke the kiss, leaving Talia to stare up at him - breathless and wanton.

"What was that?" Bruce asked, after managing to regain his breath. His tone was neither censure nor jovial. "For luck?" He asked flatly.

Talia pursed her lips with satisfaction. "Perhaps, but think of it as a little incentive for you when you're out there." She smirked at him.

Bruce chuckled dryly. "I think it will serve more as a distraction if anything."

Talia laughed. "I am sure you will manage, Bruce. Remember the lessons my father has taught you. To focus, concentrate and to-"

"Always mind your surroundings." A familiar voice cut through the tension, finishing Talia's statement.

Both Bruce and Talia spun around only to see Ducard watching them with an amused smile on his face. Talia turned red with embarrassment and Bruce briskly stepped away from her. Ducard's smile turned to a soft chuckle. "If any lesson you should keep in mind when you're out there, Bruce, it should be that one."

"Father, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to not ask for any details."

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "We were just-"

Ducard held up his hand. "Say nothing. We can discuss this after." To Bruce's curiosity, Ducard didn't seem at all angry by what he just saw. If anything it seemed to please him. It was another suspicious log thrown into an already burning fire inside of Bruce's mind.

The noise of weapons beating against shields echoed down below the courtyard, grasping his attention. Ducard nodded to the noise and held out his arm in a gesture for Bruce to proceed. "They are calling for you, Bruce. Come. Your destiny awaits you..."

Ducard led the way towards the causeway, Talia and Bruce following a few steps behind him. Bruce inwardly scoffed at his mentor's comment. "Destiny..." Another word he didn't believe in. Talia watched him through the corner of her eye.

"You are a good kisser. You've had experience I take it?"

Bruce shrugged as childhood memories of Rachel surfaced in his mind. Remorse built inside of him along with conflicted thoughts and feelings. A part of him still held her to heart and always would, but even now he found himself divided by intriguing women on all fronts. He spared a curious look at Talia. "I hope you don't just fancy me for my title, Talia."

"Suffering builds character."

They reach the bottom of the causeway and proceed the long way around the ice lake. A vibration grew in the ground with each step they took towards the forests where other members of the Shadows stood in flanking lines beating the poles of their spears into the ground and their swords against their shields - similar to a war march as they welcomed Bruce towards his test.

Ras al Ghul stood at the center between them.

Bruce felt like he was marching into hell itself for some reason. As the gloomy forests ahead carried a growing fog it its wake, the Head of the Demon waited for him at the front, ceremonial red robes adorned with his arms crossed at his back. Undeterred, Bruce continued forward, chin held high, until he realized he was now proceeding alone. Talia and her father had paused a fair distance behind and allowed him to continue without them. Bruce didn't look back as his steps brought him face to face with Ras al Ghul.

The drumming of weapons stopped. Bruce waited expectantly while Ras al Ghul addressed him.

"Prince of Gotham. You've come to your final trial that will set you upon the path to knighthood among the League of Shadows. However its haste, your journey has been one of discovery and I trust - one of absolution. Free of the guilt and the fear that so once consumed you. It is with us that you shall start anew."

Bruce revealed nothing in his expression but within he felt a semblance of renewed confidence.

"We are a brotherhood and a sisterhood of men and women whose very mission is to bring balance to this world. To snuff out the fires of evil and corruption spreading rampant through each corner of the world. It is with our aid and our ideals, that your homeland will also be saved."

Bruce nodded impassively.

"However before Gotham's salvation can be brought, you must first face your final obstacle within the forests." Ras gestured a nod over his shoulder. "Where there waits an example of the corruption and criminality that is permeating your kingdom. Your task is simple: Face this man in single-combat, defeat him, and bring him to face justice before us."

Bruce furrowed his brow. Confused by the necessity of this trial.

As if sensing this, Ras nodded. "In defeating this man and delivering justice upon him, you prove you are not only prepared to face the dangers of this world, but you are prepared to do what is necessary to defeat evil."

A sinking feeling developed within Bruce upon hearing this words. "Do they expect me to..." His train of thought was interrupt as Ras continued.

"Are you ready, Bruce, son of Thomas Wayne?"

A heavy silence followed as Bruce tried to break free of the unease settling over him. All around him, members of the Shadows waited expectantly. He gained some resolve knowing that despite his growing ambivalence, he would have to face this test either way. He would need to take this in stride for now. He met Ras al Ghul's stare and nodded.

"I am."

"Then step forth and arm yourself. You will need all you can carry, for your opponent will carry an equal advantage."

Bruce stepped forward towards a weapons rack setup, taken from the courtyard. He was amazed to see a very large variety of not just swords, spears, maces and bows but also potions, smoke projectiles, throwing stars and whips. An arsenal of almost every weapon known to exist. There were also cloaks and equipment bags. He sighed as he began to formulate a strategy as he surveyed the forests ahead of him. The fog still remained and with the grey clouds beginning to gather above him, he hazarded snowfall would follow soon.

It would slow him down, he needed to be as light and as quiet as possible in his movements. For primary weapons, he decided on a two-handed sword and a black metal shield. The edge was sharpened so even a strong opponent would have difficulty wrestling it away from his arms. He collected over a dozen projectiles to store safely in his belt and a few other unconventional weapons that might be useful. He slung the shield to rest on his back and sheathed the sword in a scabbard at his waist. Lastly, he sheathed a hidden dagger beneath his upper armor.

He released a shaky breath as the scrapping metal sounded. He was ready.

He turned to Ras al Gul, Ducard, Talia and the rest of the members who watched him closely. He gave them an assertive nod to which Ras al Ghul returned in kind.

"Very good. You are on your own now. Face your destiny, Son of Gotham. We shall await your coming..."

Bruce let his gaze wander to each of the three across from him. Ras al Ghul appeared impassive and emotionless as he always appeared. Sort of like a mask... He then shifted his gaze to Talia who looked encouraging and vibrant. She smiled his way and gave him a nod. Bruce at last turned to his mentor Ducard who gazed upon him with a look displaying all the confidence and faith that Bruce was only so accustomed to seeing in the eyes of Alfred and Rachel growing up. It was humbling to an extent.

No matter the outcome here, he would always value all his mentor had taught and bestowed upon him. He would succeed... but not for him. Not for Talia, and not for Ras al Ghul.

Reaching to his side, he pulled free his mask from his belt and secured it over his face - leaving only his eyes exposed. He drew his shield and his sword and faced the forests. Its haunting silence becoming him to fill the area with sound of his sword meeting steel. There was no going back right here. A horn sounded behind him signalling the commencement of his trial. Taking a slow breath, Bruce hardened his gaze into the mists and proceeded into the wilderness, the fog swallowing him whole until he disappeared within.

"For Gotham..."

* * *

Near the north end of the forests, a single member of the Shadows, Anton, stood alongside a horse with the chained prisoner on his knees in front of him - blindfolded and carrying a silent anger. On the ground, rolled out along a red sash was an assortment of weapons and armor. They waited patiently while in the far distance could be heard the sound of weapons ringing against each other. Not too long after, the noise died away and a harrowing silence filled the area.

The fog was still thick but near the border of the forests it was slowly dissipating. A signal made by a flaming arrow wouldn't be prudent, and so it was once a horn blew from the southern end near the castle, that the long wait was over. Anton released an impatient sigh as he looked down at the prisoner and jerked his restraint, hoisting him to his feet.

"Your time has come, assassin. On your feet!" His Slavic accent was bitter and resentful.

The prisoner quietly seethed while Anton roughly removed his blindfold, allowing his one blue eye to take in the surroundings. He cast a stoic glare to his captor in front of him. "As soon as I get out of this, I will kill you." His tone was neither harsh nor impotent. It was dangerously calm.

Anton chuckled condescendingly. "Fool. Even if you were to survive your trial, you would be wise to run. Run fast and unhinged because we will find you. And when we do, I will take out your other eye as your wife took out your first." Anton snickered sullenly. "Some world renowned assassin - mutilated by a b!tch."

The prisoner's impassive expression didn't waver despite his growing rage. His cold blue eye gazed over Anton's neck with a thoughtful look. The League assassin shoved him back a pace and gestured to the weapons on the ground in front of him.

"You know the terms of your trial - face the recruit in the wilderness. Kill him - and you go free. Here are your weapons and armor we found upon you. Take it or leave it. Just know that there is no escape from this area. We have men stationed - forming a perimeter around the entire forest. Only way out is through victory or death, assassin."

"Where there is will, there is a way." The prisoner retorted. He knelt down in front of his weapons and armor, checking to see if they were all accounted for. He stilled once he realized one important article of his attire was missing. He raised his head and glared menacingly at Anton who had now mounted his horse.

"Where is my mask?!"

Anton put on a mocking look of confusion before he feigned realization. "Mask? Oh, you mean this thing?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a uniquely woven mask. "I thought it was a handkerchief." He sniffed and blew his nose into the fabric before laughing and chucking it at the prisoner whose hand now grasped the hilt of his sword on the ground.

Anton ignored his murderous gaze and reached into his pocket and produced the key to the prisoner's chains and shackles. "You best get a move on," He threw the key to the prisoner who caught it effortlessly with his right hand. Anton pretended astonishment, "Not bad for a one-eyed bastard."

"Oh, I'll have plenty of tricks to show you once I'm done here." The prisoner began unlocking his chains. He threw on his armor and strapped his weapons to his attire.

Anton scoffed at his sarcastic retort, "I won't count it. Don't forget to die... what was your name again?"

The prisoner's shackles clattered to the ground and he glared scathingly up at his captor. "I think we're beyond introductions here. Once I'm done with this pup, I'll show you what my name is..."

He picked up his mask off the ground, turned and stalked off into the white mists of the forests.

* * *

The castle halls felt empty and forlorn despite the few guards stationed at each corner as Lady Rachel briskly walked towards the throne room. Her shoes clicked on the marble floors beneath her light-blue dress. Not anything lavish or luxurious a noble woman would wear, but as a woman with no husband or status, she remained in comfort largely in part to her mother and father and their close friendship to the royal family. Rachel wasn't ignorant towards the fact she would be nowhere near this palace if not for that.

Gotham gave noble women moderate rights - even those without wealth or title - thanks in large parts to the kind hearts of King Thomas and Queen Martha. Rachel knew had she been brought up anywhere else in the world, with a different family, she would have been sold off to marry a complete stranger at the age of 16 if not younger. She would have been given no voice nor education and would be used only to cook, clean and squeeze out children from her womb.

Needless to say, at 23 years of age, she cared immensely for the future of her homeland and its rule and she would do whatever she could to ensure its bright future... even if Bruce never returned. Such thoughts made sleep feel impossible at night.

As she approached the end of the hall, two armored guards stationed at the doors with lances crossed nodded to her in acknowledgment before they moved their weapons aside and allowed her to open the doors and proceed onward. She came into the foyer of the castle which was as enormous as the hallway she just came from. It was decorated grandly with portraits of Gotham's former kings and queens. Bruce's ancestors. Tapestries and statues of honored knights.

A red carpet led from the entrance to the palace, to the doors of the throne room at her far left. In a few minutes the High Council would congregate on the state of the kingdom and she had much to say to them. She gathered her skirts and proceeded towards the doors. She set her hands against the surface and pushed them open.

The throne room itself was the largest room in the entire palace. It was old, built over hundreds years ago, but also renovated over those years as the Wayne fortune grew, so did its grandeur. The floor was a marble colored white, patterned and installed from the finest artists in Rome and France. Pillars ran far across on opposite sides. Lit torches hung on each one. Like the foyer, the room contained statues of Gotham's old monarchs in the background of each wall. Banners bearing the sigil of the Wayne Family hung along the walls.

Pale beams of light entered through the high windows at the top of the walls. A long table was already set up with chairs at the center of the room where the council members would soon take to. What drew Rachel's attention was the throne at the back of the room. The chair that had been vacant since King Thomas died, and what drew Rachel's fury was a feminine shape lounging in the chair.

Her eyes blazed in outrage as she stalked into the room and approached the throne.

"What in Hell's name, do you think you are doing?!"

Seated in King Thomas' chair was Lady Maura, dressed in a black dress with her curly long hair hanging down her shoulders. Maura sat with her leg on the arm rest, ignoring Rachel's appalled reaction as she gazed indifferently at her fingernails.

Rachel fumed at her silence. "That chair belongs to the rightful heir of the throne. You dare to-"

"Rightful heir of the throne. Correct you are, little girl." Maura glanced over towards her with a fiendish smirk. "As the mother to Gotham's new rightful heir, its only appropriate that I keep this chair warm for him."

Rachel bit her tongue a moment. From what she'd heard from Sir Alfred and the High Council, this woman's son was apart of Bruce's extended family so it meant so long as Bruce was gone, the boy Brennen would be next in line for the throne. It didn't quell her outrage over this situation however.

She boldly raised her chin. "That chair belongs to Bruce Wayne. King Thomas' only son and heir."

Maura's smirk turned bitter as her blue eyes narrowed at Rachel as she continued. "If you and your own son held any respect for the Wayne Family and its dynasty, you wouldn't presume to take what doesn't belong to you-."

"Yet." Maura added with a firm tone, crossing her legs, arms now on the armrests. "Only yet. In a month's time my son will be proclaimed and crowned the new Prince of Gotham. When he does, change will come to this declining realm."

Rachel looked at her distrustfully. "You speak as if it is set in stone. Prince Bruce wil-" She paused a moment, Maura noticed. "He will return." She said with forced determination.

"Your voice betrays your confidence." Maura's arrogant smirk returned. "Not that I would blame you. From what I've heard, the Prince has been anything but a willing heir to the throne. Unless I am mistaken, he was supposed to have taken the crown a year past?"

Rachel remained silent.

Maura shook her head at her. "He has allowed crime to elevate and poverty to spread and now that he has gone missing, you still carry faith in not only his return but his just rule?"

Rachel glared at her. "You do not know him. You are no one to judge!"

"No, I don't..." Maura cocked her head at Rachel, studying her with piercing eyes that almost made the young maiden feel undressed and uncomfortable. "But you do?" Maura assessed knowingly.

Rachel shifted a step backward as Maura slowly rose from the throne and descended a few steps to stand at eye-level with the younger woman, 6 years her junior. "I have heard that you and the prince grew up together. Childhood friends raised into adult years. The strength of that bond would either strengthen or diminish."

"What is your meaning?" Rachel cut in irritably.

"Judging from your words I would wonder, is it more than friendship and loyalty that spurs your desire to see the Prince of Gotham return?" Rachel's eyes grew angry as the implication of Maura's words reached her. Maura nodded with a haughty smile. "So, tis ambition then."

"How dare you!"

"T'would appear I'm not the daring one here. Let us be honest, you crave to have your voice heard within this realm as it falls upon deaf ears to a bunch of weary old men. What better way of reaching out to Gotham then as its queen?"

A torn look came over Rachel despite her anger towards the woman in front of her. "I do not judge. Tis the dream of all noble women in this kingdom I'm sure." Maura offered apathetically.

Rachel remained dignified. "I care only for the future of my home and its people, and deep down, I believe Prince Bruce does as well."

"And you would suspect my son does not?" Maura challenged.

"I do not know your son. Nor you..." A suspicious look came over Rachel. "Yet I wonder why after all these years have you only chosen to show yourselves now, after Gotham's true heir has disappeared."

Maura's expression turned dark. "T'would be in your best interests to mind your choice of words, Lady Rachel. Should Prince Bruce not return, you are  
addressing the future queen regent. Mother to your future king."

"Your predominant response lends me enough to see into what kind of queen you would be. I fear Gotham should that day come."

Maura maintained a passive look, but her anger was clear in her eyes. Before their debate could extend further, the doors to the throne room opened and the council members began to walk in. At the front of them walked Councilman Earle and Maura's son Brennen engaged in a political discussion.

Maura smirked in their direction. "I'm sure the High Council would agree, my son and I know what is best for Gotham. Let us see if you can sway them to your gentle and pleading voice."

The dark haired woman turned and strode towards the table with a swagger in her movements. Rachel watched after her feeling exposed and troubled over their conversation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

Silence. A harrowing and haunting silence filled the area as Bruce slowly made his way through the foggy mists of the forests. No sound of wildlife nor other physical activity could be heard, except for the occasional whistle of the wind whipping past his covered ears. As limited as the noises of his surroundings were, so were his visuals.

The fog was heavy that he could see no further than ten or perhaps fifteen around himself. The faint outlines of trees could be distinguished in the mists. Bruce had traversed this forest many times during his stay here to know exactly where he was going. If he carried any advantage against his unseen quarry, it would need to be that. Even still, he thought it wise not to ignore the advice given to him by Talia and Ducard. Whomever it was he was facing out here should not be underestimated.

Bruce's hazel-green eyes bore against his surroundings with an unwavering scrutiny. His breathing was slow and tempered while in one hand he carried a black leather covered shield and a sword in the other. He tested the weight of each in his hand a moment and felt assured of his mobility. He released a disgruntled sigh as he proceeded forward, mindful of his surroundings and his own footing across the leaf and twig covered grounds.

"Adapt to your surroundings..." The thought instinctively crossed Bruce's mind as he kept his steps silent and precise as he sidled up against a withered tree, and peered at the area ahead of the creek. Nothing. He shrugged impatiently as he stepped forward.

"Where the hell are yo-"

It was sudden but the whizzing noise in the air closing in on him brought Bruce out of his musing and he instinctively raised his shield in front of him and flinched at the loud impact of an arrow lodging against its surface. Eyes wide with anticipation, Bruce leapt back behind the tree and could feel the vibrations of multiple arrows lodging into the trunk that now shielded him. He held his back against it and rested his head the same as he gathered his bearings.

"I guess that worked..." He grunted as the noises stopped and he took the moment to listen intently as his eyes gazed over the arrow imbedded in his shield. He pulled it free and stared at the head. It was colored black. Bruce sniffed the head of it and cringed at the odor. "Poison."

He chucked the arrow away and paced himself as he moved behind the tree, holding his shield protectively over his flank. The silence was now beginning to unnerve Bruce along with the fog. His opponent had already made the first attack and he neither saw nor heard him coming beforehand. Unacceptable.

"Focus... Concentrate."

He moved forward into a clearing, ears attuned to any possible indication of his opponents movements. Bruce was tempted to call out his quarry but knew he would only be risking his position. His eyes bored in the direction the arrows hand been fired from and could see the faint outline of an undisturbed tree. The area around it gave no indication of footsteps or occupation. He frowned behind his mask as he moved forward towards it.

A faint rustle of leaves in the air gave him pause. He stood just beneath an adjacent tree, listening for any other noises. He breathed quietly through his nose to not disguise any sounds. Just as he began to suspect it was a gust of wind, the noise returned in full force along with a pair of boots striking him head on in the face, sending him fall backward against the ground.

Bruce groaned aloud at the stinging blow, but to his credit he didn't relinquish his hold on his weapon and he soon rolled back onto his heels. He watched with wary eyes as his assailant dangled from a high tree branch and dropped down gracefully onto his feet. He had been hiding in the tree the entire time and waited for the right moment to swing off a branch and attack.

"Clever," Bruce thought moderately.

His opponent made no retreat as he slowly turned his head in the direction of his target and stoically made his approach. Bruce slowly rose to his feet as he took the moment to study him.

The man stood tall perhaps 6'3, a good three inches higher than himself. His powerful build suggested he was strong and defined - a man who pushed his body through relentless training and conditioning. His attire was unique and unfamiliar. He wore loose black trousers, a torn short-sleeved black tunic over a shirt of chain-mail, leather gloves and boots colored a faded orange or red, - Bruce couldn't be too sure. Covering the shins, knees and his forearms were plated pieces of steel armor and gauntlets.

He carried a cross bow strapped to his side, a belt around his waist and another diagonally around his torso holding small knives, and a single long sword sheathed behind his back. A mercenary - an assassin.

What drew Bruce's attention the most was his face. He wore a mask just as himself, but what was unsettling about it was it was divided by two colors down the center of the face, giving the distinction of two opposing forces. One side was black as the rest of his garb, and the other was a faded orange. What was disconcerting about this was the black tinted side of the mask - the right side - carried no hole for the eye to gaze through. It was sealed entirely while on the left orange side Bruce could make out a single blue eye glaring daggers at him.

"Who are you..." Bruce wondered absentmindedly.

"Careless observation of your surroundings, boy." A thick baritone voice condescended from behind the mask. "You must be fresh meat among the Shadows. And from the look of you, they have not given you time to cook."

Bruce narrowed his eyes as a mental image of the assassin's unmasked face flickered through his memory. He was older than himself, perhaps by a decade. He had only one eye which would explain why the mask covered half his face entirely. As far as Bruce knew, this man had more experience than him in combat. It would appear Ras al Ghul really wished to test his metal here.

"So you're the one I'm supposed to kill?" He scoffed. "If that's the case, I should've allowed you the first blow, you know... just to make things fair." He taunted with no mirth in his tone.

The assassin came to a slow pause almost teen feet away. He took a moment to size his opponent up. Bruce ignored his remarks and kept a calm posture however his stance was just as confrontational. The assassin cocked his head to the side. "No glib remark? Not even a witty retort or an angry lash? Hmm..." The two begin to circle each other, "You seem different from the others... From where do you hail?"

Bruce wasn't sure what his game was - if he was either trying to distract him or if this was a sadistic "play with your food" moment. He held his tongue and his weapons ready. To strike the man down now, unarmed would be cowardly, however he hazarded this man was anything but vulnerable without his weapons drawn.

"Are you a mute? Or just plain stupid?" The assassin provoked him further. "I guess exchanging names isn't in your interests right now either..." The assassin paused in his movements and stood still with a powerful air about him. "No matter. I'll tell you mine anyway because you see as a rule, I let my target know who is the one about to end their pitiful life."

Bruce smirked sullenly. "Are you going to talk me to death? You will have to try harder."

A dark chuckle came from behind the assassin's mask.

"He speaks..."

The assassin turned sideways as he resumed his stride and slowly reached to unsheathe his sword. He feigned the action and instead immediately drew a knife from the belt strapped to his chest and sent it hurtling towards his opponent. Bruce sidestepped it at the last moment and hissed as he felt the blade scrap against the side of his arm, cutting through the fabric of his tunic.

"He bleeds..."

Bruce retaliated with a spinning backward kick to the face, surprising his enemy.

"And now you'll die..."

The assassin's tone turned dark and menacing as he balled his gloved fist and swung ruthlessly, striking Bruce across the face. Bruce staggered and the man followed up with a rushing knee to the stomach then an elbow down across the back, forcing the prince to drop both sword and shield. The man aimed for a downward punch to Bruce's skull but the prince was ready and crossed his forearms to catch the blow then spun on his heels and swept the man's legs out from under him.

The assassin grunted upon contact with the hard cold ground but he fluidly rolled back on to his feet at the same time as Bruce. He reached for his crossbow at his waist and took immediate aim with one arm. Bruce rushed beside him and captured his arm and averted his aim. The arrow fired off into the forest, hitting the trunk of a nearby tree. The assassin viciously beat his head against the prince's to force him back.

Bruce remained firm and sacrificed one of his arms to deliver a sideways chop to the assassin's stomach. He barely flinched as the chain-mail beneath his tunic protected him from blunt attacks. Slightly stressed, Bruce used his other arm to swat the assassin's crossbow arm away then improvised with a well aimed fist to the face followed by a forward haymaker to the chest, sending him backward to his knees.

"Well struck..." The assassin muttered, slightly short of breath. Bruce advanced on him ready to deliver a falling drop kick to the face. The assassin sprang forward and caught Bruce beneath the chin with a jaw shattering uppercut that sent the prince of Gotham falling back to the ground. Bruce groaned in pain, nursing his stinging jaw while the assassin slowly came back to his feet.

"You are skilled... disciplined... and spirited..." The assassin's tone carried a hint of surprise. "I never did get your name?"

Bruce rolled backward a few paces and came to a crouching position, one hand rubbing his aching jaw. He glared at his opponent warily having now realized that Ducard and Talia weren't jesting about this mercenary - this assassin.

"Bruce..." He growled grudgingly.

The assassin stood silently with a thoughtful posture as if studying his opponent more carefully than before. "Name's Slade Wilson. Maybe you've heard of me, maybe you haven't, but I go by many titles throughout the region." The assassin reached for the sword at his back and deftly unsheathed it.

Bruce methodically rose to his feet, now holding his own sword and shield. The two men began to circle each other, the fog beginning to gather and pass about them. Slade began swinging his sword through the air with each exclamation, "Murderer... Sinner... Mercenary... Assassin... Terminator!"

Slade lunged at Bruce wielding his two handed sword and lashed at his head. Bruce raised his shield and blocked the blow, then used his sword arm to retaliate and parry an overhead swing. Bruce held firm but was astonished by the strength of the older man's blows.

"But there is one name I favor above the others..." Slade slammed his blade down against Bruce's shield and used his strength to slap it out of his hand with a swing of his sword. Bruce used his free arm to fully utilize his strength behind his weapon to block Slade's sword swing aimed for his neck. The two men face each other close, weapons locked. Bruce glared into Slade's single visible blue eye that carried a deadly calm to it.

Bruce bared his teeth from behind his mask. "I do not care what they call you... You're no different from the other scum I've seen in my life time." Bruce swung his sword free and began his own frontal assault, swinging his blade at all points of his opponents limbs only to have them parried. "The only difference being the size of your ego!" Bruce grunted before he bashed his gauntlet forearm against Slade's arm.

Slade growled as he felt Bruce's scallops tear through the vulnerable point between his chain-mail and his plated gauntlet. Bruce, sensing an advantage, held onto Slade's left arm, then drove his foot forward against his opponent's ribs. Slade roared in both pain and fury before retaliating with a right hook then a jumping front kick that forced Bruce back a few steps.

"I'd think twice about that if I was you..." Slade deadpanned, holding his bleeding arm for Bruce to see.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the wound and watched confounded and shocked as the wound slowly began to heal before his eyes. Bruce quickly composed himself and met Slade's eye. "What are you?" He demanded.

"Your worst nightmare."

"One easily forgotten as I awake."

Slade resumed his barrage, this time with a forward leap into the air, emitting a battle cry. Bruce held his blade and followed suit, leaping into the air, blade ready, yelling ferociously as their swords collided. A deafening clash of steel echoed through the forests as both men waged a brutal onslaught of steel, fists and kicks in their ever growing battle for victory and survival.

The assassin, despite his silently growing irritation, carried a weight of admiration for the younger man's skills and techniques. It had been a long time since he had a good fight. No matter. It was time to end his life and be free of this desolated place. As their sword fighting grew more rapid and lengthy, so did their aggression. Bruce blocked a backward swing aimed for his back by raising his sword behind his back but in so doing left his waist exposed. Taking advantage, Slade struck him with a well aimed kick to the stomach that forced the younger man to keel forward.

Slade raised his sword to bring it down across Bruce's head but the prince expertly dodged the blow and Slade's sword collided with the ground. Bruce picked up his shield and bashed it into Slade's face before coming at the assassin with a right hook to the face then a spinning roundhouse kick that sent Slade reeling backwards.

Slade spotted his crossbow and recovered it, taking aim. Bruce's eyes widened as he raised his shield in a crouching position and blocked the projectiles. He discarded his defensive weapon then waited as Slade recovered his sword and came at him again. Both men had been at the others throat for close to a half-hour now and both showed faint signs of fatigue but mostly growing vexation. Having realized he underestimated this recruit, Slade decided to change tactics by disappearing into the fog.

Bruce stood with baited breath, sword ready as his enemy began to use the surrounding environment to his advantage. The prince felt himself perspiring and removed his mask to take in the cool air and improve his senses. He held his sword in tightly, the leather in his gloves creaking in response.

"Mind your surroundings..." He whispered to himself. He felt a gust of wind coming at him from the side and he instinctively raised his sword as Slade rushed at him from the mists and attacked. Bruce parried and swung but met only air as Slade fell back into the fog out of reach and out of sight. Bruce released a growling breath as he waited, attuning himself.

This time his warning sign wasn't a gust of wind but a projectile noise singing in the air. Bruce grunted as he spun and swung his sword, shattering a knife having been thrown at him from the mists. He diverted his head away from the exploding shards but hissed as he felt one nick the side of his neck. He ignored the warm crimson fluid streaking down into his clothing and focused harder. A dark chuckle came from the mists.

"Smart boy. I must say, you are unlike any I've ever hunted or come across."

Bruce turned about, trying to locate Slade's voice that seemed to be carried on the winds circling him. Bruce didn't like being toyed with, and he knew so long as he remained on the defensive in this position he would be vulnerable and at a disadvantage. Slowly, he began to move south, keeping his sword ready for the slightest indication of his quarry.

"Pity our paths crossed like this... under my guidance you would've been a perfect hunter instead of the prey"

Bruce stopped near the edge of a hill leading down to a ravine. He glanced downward, his mind examining the visible area and forming a new plan of attack and defense. The assassin he was facing - Wilson - as he called himself, was apparently no ordinary man evidence by his instant healing from injury. Bruce wasn't sure if it was magic or a natural born gift he possessed, but he wouldn't be defeated by a sword so easily.

"Who says I'm the not the hunter here?" Bruce baited him, he felt a gust of air coming at him from the tree and he reached and captured Slade's legs and hurled him off the branch and onto the ground. "The perfect hunter knows when to play bait - to lure the hunted into that false sense of safety just before they make their move."

"Enough talk." Slade drew his sword rushed at Bruce. Bruce caught Slade's attack with his sword and they became locked. He aggressively swung his sword free and sent both weapons falling down into the ravine near a rock. Bruce headbutted Slade, shoved him back then jumped and executed a butterfly kick. Slade collided with the ground hard, a sharp twig piercing the back of his leg.

Bruce looked down over him. "And you will face justice..."

Slade trudged up to a knee. "Not without a fight!"

Slade rushed at Bruce to deliver his final onslaught against the young prince. Both men, armed only with their hands and determination, faced each other head on. Slade threw a flurry of punches and well aimed kicks but to his astonishment, Bruce managed to block every one. Bruce caught an opening and struck Slade across the face with a back hand. He shoved him a step backward, then used his free arm to deliver a handstand kick to the face.

Bruce swung his arm across, Slade ducked and aimed a forward roundhouse kick which Bruce stepped backward from. Slade spun to sweep Bruce's feet from under him, Bruce jumped over head and landed behind him. Both men skillfully dodged each attack and by now both were beginning breathe heavily. Bruce charged at Slade who caught him in a grappling hold then drove his elbow down against the prince's back. He swung Bruce away who came back to his feet at once.

"Enough of this..." Slade drew a knife his belt.

Bruce feigned trepidation and ran towards a tree with Slade in hot pursuit. Bruce paced himself and showing great athleticism, he jumped kicked off the trunk of the tree, spun into the air and flawlessly connected the front of his boot with Slade's face, sending the assassin flying back to the ground.

Slade was down a second longer than normal but soon kicked back up and and charged at Bruce with an angry shout. Both men grunted and wrestled, Bruce's hand caught the top of Slade's mask and pulled it free. Slade paused but a moment in surprise as his features were exposed. Bruce stared at his empty eye-socket, then his angry blue eye glaring at him. Slade wrestled the knife closer to Bruce's neck.

"Any last words, pretty boy?"

Bruce sacrificed his free hand to pull a round object from his belt. The blade inched closer. Slade's breath was raking his face. Bruce growled as he held the object firmly and glared at the assassin. "Sweet dreams..." Bruce rasped as he closed his eyes before throwing the object down. A flash of light and smoke issued, blinding Slade temporarily which was long enough for Bruce to counter the attack and force Slade into a sleeper hold. He cut the belt of knives free with his the knife, disarming his opponent.

Bruce pressed ** the pressure points of Slade's neck while the older man grunted and thrashed. Bruce had learned various techniques from Ducard on how to subdue opponents in combat which Bruce was ambivalent about trying until now. To Slade's credit, he would not go down easily. He threw his weight back against the tree to break Bruce's hold, but the prince of Gotham held onto him relentlessly - determined to end this fight.

"You son of a..." Slade's words began to become slurred and heavy. Bruce fell back to the ground with him, sleeper hold still applied. Bruce felt the older man's breathing begin to slow and relax and his body grew limp. Slowly, Bruce released pressure on the hold and allowed Slade to rest entirely on the ground on his back. Panting for breath, Bruce rested his back against the stump of a tree and allowed the cool air to brush his sweaty skin.

He'd passed his final test. At least the first part of it.

He still needed to drag the assassin back to face justice among the League of Shadows.

Bruce touched his neck where the shards to the knife had scratched his flesh. The bleeding had stopped. But his body was sore and aching from Slade's attacks. Despite not caring much for Slade nor men of his character, Bruce felt a smidgen of respect for the assassin's fighting skills.

"You are one vicious bastard."

Bruce spoke to the unconscious man. He felt a wet drop on his nose and he gazed up into the grey skies to see a gentle snowfall coming over him. He released a dry chuckle, his expression conforming into relief. His thoughts drifted towards Alfred and Rachel back home. He was one step closer to reuniting with them. To saving Gotham. But first...

"Its time to send you where you belong."

He rose to his feet and lifted the unconscious man over his shoulders. He picked up Slade's mask with him then began to make his way south towards the edge of the forests.

* * *

In the throne room of royal castle, Rachel Dawes - the fair maiden of justice and humidly - stood in the shadows with her milk chocolate auburn hair wrapped in a tight fitting bun as she leaned her back against the stone walls. John Blake stood beside her.

Her Navy blue eyes bore tears of sorrow as the dimness of the torch light became captured in her pupils. Her light shaded lips quivered at the sight of Lady Maura sitting at the head of the long table with her son young Brennen by her side. Maura looked smug with a haughty smirk as her teal blue eyes became buried into Rachel's wary soul.

Rachel gathered a deep breath and showed no weakness to her poise and condescension. She straightened her back and prepared to make her statement to the council members. Her thoughts trailed as distant visions she imagined of an elder Bruce Thomas Wayne sitting at the head of the table, wearing the golden crown of his late father and showing understanding in his deep-set almond eyes. He had matured with wisdom. He wore a thick groomed beard and his temples were grey as age came to his body. That was her beacon of hope.

Her eyes shifted to an ashen fleshed man sitting at the far corner of the table, wearing a black physician's robe as his lips curled with a devilish sneer. His adroit mind was congesting up amused thoughts.

John Blake averted his eyes sideways. "Lady Dawes, are you sure that this is condign affair to perform?" He asked with a burden within his voice.

"One person can make a difference, Sir Blake." She answered as Councilman William Earle looked over at her position.

"Lady Dawes," The Elder Councilman addressed, gesturing her to step forth. "You bring tidings from the streets of Gotham." He sipped his goblet of fermented wine. "Speak your peace on this wintery evening."

Rachel stepped closer as her heels clicked on the stone floor. "I bring no comfort for this frosty night. Only the disturbing truth that this land has brought forth." She swallowed her words. "Beyond these walls, poor villagers are struck with disease. Many of them die within months. I have seen the darkness of this kingdom."

"One last mouth to feed," Earle commented coldly as the others followed with dry chuckles released from their greasy covered lips, gravy from their roasted pork ran from the edges of their mouths.

She scowled with vexation. "How dare you place veils over your eyes and pretend that this kingdom is not crumbling," Rachel snarled. "The good king believed in the people of this land and you have defiled his example. Outside these walls, people are starving, children fending for themselves on the streets as you stuff your bodies endlessly with gluttony and greed." She spoke with malice.

Earle scowled at her. "Mind your tongue, Lady Rachel. Your intemperance will earn you no favors."

"I do not look for favors! I look for mercy and compassion for those who are dying so needlessly!" Her tone reached a fever pitched. She softly swallowed, restraining her distraught tone. The Councilors remained impassive. She sighed. "We must help them. You all have the power to do so..."

A raven haired, ice blue-eyed man arose from his chair. "In my opinion, Lady Dawes clearly is confused by the laws of which this kingdom falls under ..." He replied in a silver tongue. "There are debased minds that dwell in the streets. Ravaging on the innocent victims. The law states that no sickly person with a mental condition must work for profit. There are many, Lady Dawes."

Rachel sneered in the man's direction as he continued. "What would the good people of Gotham think if we started a laboring force for the monsters out there. They would revolt and the only result would be madness." His voice hissed. "Is that what you want this kingdom to come to?"

"Madness is a rancid word to use against this kingdom, Lord Crane." Maura interrupted as her English accent rattled in her throat.

The man bowed his head. "I'm no lord, my Lady, just this kingdom's humble physician."

Maura nodded. "We should take into consideration that the winter months are closing in meaning that those dwelling on the streets will die from the bitter cold because we turned our back onto their needs." She looked towards the Councilors. "Harvest comes after winter passes and during such time, the cities taxes will suffer if all our farmers and village workers perished because we allowed them to."

The Councilors looked thoughtful at Lady Maura's input. Rachel herself raised an astonished eyebrow at her approach. Maura smirked in her direction, her eyes gleaming with superiority. "I say that we stand together and form an agreement to help the ones less fortunate." She arose from her seat, showing her newest garments. Emerald green silks with a black laced head piece. She looked directly at Rachel then towards Crane.

"Medicus, Lady Dawes will be in charge of all the planning to preserve the lives of Gotham."

Jonathan Crane glared icily at Rachel before taking to his seat as the colloquy became deeper with the other council members.

John Blake stepped forth. "Members of the High Council," He stated in a firm voice as all eyes peered at the raven haired youth. "I wish to assist Lady Dawes," His voice was humble as Rachel turned at him with a slight smile.

Lady Maura studied the young Gotham Knight as her eyes fluttered for a moment. "What is your name, sir knight?" She asked curiously.

"John Robin Blake, my lady." He bowed his head. "I work under Sir Gordon's command."

"From what I have heard, James Gordon is a virtuous man. I respect a man with a determination in preserving this kingdom for my son." She enveloped her hand over her young son's. "I look forward, in the coming years, to share information with Sir Gordon."

Blake nodded. "I will be sure to inform him of that request when he comes back from the search of the missing Prince."

Rachel formed a tiny frown. Alfred had also gone with the Knight Captain and despite having wished she had his support here, she knew he was currently where he needed to be - searching for Bruce. She glanced back at Lady Maura, despite her own suspicions and distrust towards her, Rachel felt a grudging respect for her political talent.

"Do you have faith that Prince Bruce shall return to this kingdom?" Brennen asked, scraping his silver fork against the stone ceramic plate. "Do you, like the rest of the people that dwell within the borders of this kingdom, feel that the prince is has passed and his body will never be found?"

"I can not make any assumptions, Lord Brennen." He answered. "I can only believe the truth of the facts that my superiors have given on the investigation."

Brennen scowled. "I trust your judgement on this matter. You're a brave knight and I will be glad to have you apart of my guard."

"Thank you, my lord." Sir Blake gave a short nod of his head in deference then returned to his post near the wall that held the family crest of the Wayne Family.

Rachel looked at the twelve councilmen. "I will accept the challenge of bringing hope and good health back to the villagers and orphans outside the capital." She affirmed.

Maura beamed. "You shall stay on these grounds and dine with my son and I after the daylight hours. For you are a lady of decision and compassion. I feel that this kingdom needs your guidance to improve the foundations that my son will set his rock upon."

William Earle arose from his chair. "This meeting has concluded. You may take your leave Lady Dawes and Sir Blake."

Rachel nodded and advanced to the arched way door as Blake trailed behind her, his plated armor clinking in his steps. Both of them vanished within the shadows of the vast hallways as whispers echoed behind them from the council members and the head physician of Arkham Asylum as they rambled on the kingdom of Gotham's future being proposed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

The distance back to the Shadows' camp felt a lot shorter this time to Bruce as he slowly made his way back, carrying the bound unconscious mercenary over his shoulder. The camp, which originally stood at the edge of the forests seemed to have moved inward near a willow tree. Bruce could hear no chatter but his attuned ears could pick up noises of movements. The fog in the forests had cleared away on his way back enough for him to see what lay ahead.

As expected, his eyes picked up the sight of over a dozen League knights and assassins standing in formation with Ras al Ghul at the front, hands folded behind his back, a sword sheathed at his side. Behind him stood Ducard and Talia in their own armor, an air of deference surrounding them. A wagon stood next to the group. A supply cart being wheeled in from an opposite road within the forests. In front of Ras al Ghul, a small fire was burning with a cauldron of hot coals set over it. A branding poker rested on top of it.

They were awaiting his arrival.

Bruce paused a moment behind a tree, thoughtful and hesitant for a moment as he bore the weight of this murderer on his shoulders. His many lingering doubts and suspicions had returned to the forefront of his mind, acting as an invisible barrier between him and the path ahead of him. The path he was certain would lead him back to Gotham... but under what circumstances? "Its time to find out," his inner voice broke through the barrier, willing him forward.

He stepped out into the clearing within the forests, within sight of his mentors. Upon seeing Bruce alive and carrying his defeated opponent over his shoulder, the knights and assassins yelled in approval. Ducard and Talia wore equally satisfied smiles as Bruce marched towards them and dropped the mercenary onto the ground in front of Ras al Ghul. The leader of the shadows looked down upon the defeated prisoner then back towards Bruce before giving a nod of approval.

"You have done well, Young Prince. Your trials have come to their end with a glimmering light of success." Another roar of approval from the league assassins. Bruce stood tall, feeling a moment of humbleness. Ras continued, "Take pause to clear mind and regain strength. In but a moment comes your final step towards fulfilling your place among us."

Bruce bowed his head respectfully in a warrior's salute - his gloved fist held inside his open palm in front of him. Ras nodded and turned away, gesturing a few nearby assassins to attend to the prisoner in front of him. Bruce released a contented sigh, glad he was one step closer to home.

"You have triumphed, Bruce. Much faster than I anticipated you might." Ducard's voice reached his ears as his mentor made his approach, his daughter Talia at his side.

"Indeed, that was no meager mercenary you defeated. One of the most deadly assassins operating within the north." Talia added.

Despite some of his misgivings, Bruce managed a modest smile towards them. "To his credit, I expect to be feeling the effects of his assault for many days to come." He winced as he wiped a small trace of blood around the cut on his arm. He felt momentarily dizzy as the effects of Wilson's attacks began to catch up to him.

"The pain is temporary, but well worth the rewards. For the work we will accomplish, will last beyond a lifetime." Ducard assured.

Bruce stood thoughtful in his musings. Ducard looked between his student and his daughter who watched Bruce intently. "Talia, see to Bruce's wounds and that he is well prepared for the Joining Ceremony."

Talia nodded. "Yes, father."

Ducard placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Rest easy, Bruce. You are almost home."

Despite his mentor's reassuring words, Bruce drew little comfort from them. Nevertheless he acknowledged his comment with a respectful bow of his head. Ducard patted his shoulder and turned to rejoin the other assassins. Bruce watched as they brought down various crates, jugs and vases from the supply cart and began to rummage through them.

Bruce felt a hand touch his and looked down to see Talia's hand, attempting to gain his attention. "Bruce?" Bruce met her concerned stare and blinked his thoughts and sights back into focus. "Come, let us get you cleaned up." She gave his hand a tug and gestured him over to the supply cart and a small table setup in front of it.

Bruce followed and took a seat on the stump of a cut down tree. Talia handed him a waterskin and he held no hesitation this time as he took a refreshing drink. He set the waterskin aside and watched as the other assassins attempted to rouse Wilson from his unconsciousness with callous kicks to his limbs and torso but not gaining the desired effect. One of the assassins, Anton, opened a crate that contained what appeared to be medical supplies - healing herbs, poultices and bandages.

He flinched as he felt a wet rag dab against the cut on his brow. "Hold still, Bruce." Talia gently instructed. Bruce released a sigh and conceded. She had removed her gloves to better attend to him. He felt her attentive gaze on him and the memory of their kiss flashed in his mind. A faint smile reached his lips. It was momentary but it didn't escape Talia's close proximity. She followed his gaze towards the assassins as Anton held a suspicious flower beneath Wilson's nose which brought the mercenary back to consciousness.

Talia nodded. "You should feel proud, I know I would."

"That wasn't really what I was thinking of..." He admitted.

A grin reached Talia's face. "A "distraction" then, I take it?" She recalled the word he used to describe their kiss which still lingered in her thoughts.

Bruce wasn't sure what he was thinking with his comment, but now felt a beguiling approach might provide him with an answer to the curious questions sparked from this morning. "It was rather incentive. It was surprising that your father did not seem to mind."

His implication hung in the air. Talia's expression hadn't changed as she grabbed a bandage and began to wrap the cuts on Bruce's arm, over his clothing. "My father has long desired me to find happiness with a man of strength and worth. Its no secret how highly he thinks of you... beloved."

Bruce's eyes snapped to hers. His hazel eyes searching for any indication of a hidden intent or actual sincerity. If he felt certain, there was a bit of both in her words and the depths of her eyes. Perhaps her affections for him were true, but there lied another unspoken purpose within her. She was exotic and attractive in her features and he might also say wise in her knowledge, yet despite all this he didn't wish to lead this woman astray if he were being honest with himself. He sighed.

"Talia, you are truthfully one of the most fairest of women I have ever come across, but I hav-" His words were halted as Talia covered his lips with her fingertips, silencing what she knew to be a gentle refusal.

"Hush now." She admonished. "I seek no promises nor apologies, I merely acknowledge what is true." Her tone was firm not scornful. It was as she said, only acknowledging. Bruce wasn't sure how to respond. He wished to finish his words that he could afford no room in his life for a woman right now, especially with the weight of responsibility soon to come over him. However he soon decided a simple nod to her comments would suffice for now.

Talia lowered her hand from his lips, her gaze lingered over them for a moment before she averted them over her shoulder to where she could see her father conversing with Ras al Ghul. Her father spared a glance towards her and nodded. She responded in kind and finished tending to Bruce's visible injuries.

"Come, Bruce. The Joining Ceremony is about to begin."

* * *

Bruce rose from his seated position and shuddered as a cold wind blew past him. "Allow me a moment."

Talia nodded and wandered back to the main group.

With the tears in his tunic and the temperature decreasing due to the shifting clouds above, Bruce decided to dress warmer. He approached the wagon to the side and found a crate carrying warm robes. Nothing the assassins or knights here wore, perhaps taken from a merchant or seamstress in the south.

He removed his gauntlets and his pauldrons to wear the robes more comfortably. They were long, the bottom reaching down to his mid-ankles, and dark gray - almost black - in tones. A hood was also attached it. The hem at the bottom was split from front and back, providing greater leg movement. Dawning them, he found they fit his form favorably.

He re-secured his black gauntlets and his pauldrons to his body on top. One of the pauldrons felt loose, so he attached a belt suspender to it, running diagonally across his torso. He found the robes also carried gray-white fur padding on the left shoulder and beneath both his bracers. Convenient for the cold weather. To tie the robes closed securely, he used an adorned buckle on top, diamond shaped, and a red sash on top. He wore a larger leather belt below it with more compartments filled with small weapons and other necessities.

Once he was fully dressed, he flexed his gloved fingers and felt contentment in both body and mind. The cold was fleeting and now the Joining lay ahead of him. Hood down, he approached the assembling camp and stood ready in front of the branding cauldron, arms crossed behind him while the preparations were being concluded. Bruce maintained an impassive look as Slade was brought beside him - unmasked and gagged - and forced down to his knees, grunting angrily.

"I knew you wouldn't succeed, you one-eyed bastard." Anton antagonized him.

Slade grunted a curse at the assassin and struggled with his shackles. Bruce ignored him and any uneasy thoughts coming over him as he watched a few of the assassins emerge from the back of the forests where he had come from - carrying Slade's weapons, mask and Bruce's sword. He furrowed his brow but stood attentive as Ras al Ghul, Ducard and Talia made their approach across from him and Wilson on the opposite of the cauldron.

Ras held up his hand, commanding silence with the camp. Bruce raised his chin, ready for commencement. Ras began speaking in a foreign tongue to the assassins assembled in formation. He reached into the cauldron and held the brand above it. Ducard slowly approached from the side and translated.

"Your fear and desolation has been purged in place of anger and purpose, Prince of Gotham." Slade's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this revelation as he looked towards Ducard then Bruce beside him. Ducard continued. "Emotions and tools that will guide you in pursuit of justice and the acclimation of peace within your kingdom. You are ready. All that remains now is a demonstration of your commitment to justice."

Bruce waited with baited breath as Ducard gestured one of the men forward who held Bruce's sword and scabbard. Anton grabbed Slade and forced his head into a bowed position in front of Bruce. The Prince of Gotham's jaw momentarily fell as he glanced to the back of Slade's exposed neck then to his sheathed weapon being held in front of him.

It was as he feared.

He glanced away from his weapon then towards Talia in the background who gave him a nod of encouragement. "Do what is necessary..." Her words echoed in his mind, their meaning now clear to him. He looked away towards Ras across from him, whose eyes were scrutinizing him carefully. Bruce finally looked back towards his mentor, Ducard, whose expression was expectant.

Bruce shook his head. "No." He said softly.

"I am no executioner." His tone was firmer.

Ducard and Talia's expressions fell. Ras al Ghul's remained impassive. Slade was surprised, feeling a moment of opportunity. His blue eye spied the keys to his shackles hanging loosely from Anton's side. Ducard shrugged at Bruce's answer.

"Why do you recoil, Bruce? Compassion is a weakness your enemies will not afford you. Given the chance, this man would have ended your life without a moment's hesitation."

Bruce remained unfazed. "That is the important thing. It is was separates me - us - from them."

"You wish to fight criminals? This man is a murderer who serves no cause but his own." Ducard admonished.

"Then he should be tried as any criminal should." Bruce shot back.

"He already has, Bruce." Talia's voice broke through the tensing debate. She approached from around Ras al Ghul and stood in front of the cauldron, in front of Slade and Bruce. "Trial by combat was his only chance of freedom. Had he killed you he would have been free to leave. He failed and now the sentencing must be carried out." She gestured to the sheathed sword still held in front of him.

Bruce wasn't impressed. "That is not justice."

"Does the punishment not fit his crimes?" She continued.

"His fate and his crimes should not be decided by one undisclosed man."

"Then by whom? Corrupt politicians? Such as the ones in your kingdom." Ducard interjected. Bruce looked disquieted. "Look around us, Bruce. There are no advocates to give defense, no witnesses to call forth. There are only those who may judge and sentence." Ducard beseeched him.

Slade tugged angrily in his shackles, murmuring angry words.

Ducard gestured his head towards the prisoner. "Criminals such as him mock society's laws. You should know this better than most. How can you hope to properly rule your kingdom without dispensing punishment on those who would threaten it?"

"I will dispense justice and punishment - the just way. But not like this. Not the way that will label me as the cold and malicious king."

A look of realization came upon Ducard upon hearing this. "Your father was a merciful king, Bruce. Some call it his greatest strength but it proved to be a weakness that led to his downfall. If your father acted more accordingly, he and your mother would still be alive, and you would not be here now learning from his grave mistakes." He pressed.

Bruce clenched his jaw but remained tempered.

"Or do you truly believe he and your mother would not have fallen to those he mercifully pardoned from imprisonment?" Ducard dug deeper.

Bruce momentarily fell uncertain. Day and night since his parents were taken from him, he blamed a number of people for their deaths: that magical monster who killed them, the corrupted Gotham Knights, the gypsies who attacked... and himself. The more he believed in their guilt, the more he was consumed with hatred where all he wanted to do was punish someone. The lengths he had wanted to take that punishment had disturbed him on occasion and even led to his own insecurities towards taking the throne. He never told this to anyone, not even Alfred.

Gotham didn't deserve an impulsive king.

Perhaps had his father not been so lenient things might have turned out differently, but Bruce didn't believe this form of justice was the answer. He decided as he met Ducard's penetrating stare. "You are not wrong, but you are not correct either." He boldly replied.

A murmur of surprise erupted around the ranks of the assassins, some astonished at Bruce's defiant answer while others were angry. Ras al Ghul's impassive expression contorted briefly.

"I am surprised." Talia said incredulously. "I believed you to be more apathetic than this." Her tone was neither condescending nor encouraging, merely amazed. Ducard remained passive despite all this.

"Not all human life is sacred, Bruce. Why do you feel otherwise? What truly stays your hand?"

Bruce fell silent, his gaze wavering as a long forgotten memory from his childhood chose now to reemerge and guide his answer. At seven years of age, after a boring morning of helping Jillana fold his own clothes, he decided to find Rachel and see if she wanted to explore the castle grounds. He had ventured into the castle's throne room through a side door behind a pillar and stopped to see his father King Thomas seated on the throne, holding a tribunal.

A Narrows villager was being tried for killing a nobleman in cold blood. Said villager's son had in fact been betrayed the nobleman to a pack of bandits who had attacked the Narrows. A vengeful murder. The villager acted without thought, only his emotions but carried remorse. But not for the life he had taken. It was up to his King Thomas to dispense justice upon the villager. The nobleman's family was there demanding the villager be sentenced to death. The villager's own family was there begging for leniency.

Bruce had expected his father to give into the nobility's demand to sentence the villager to be hanged. His father instead chose to sentence him to two decades of imprisonment in Castle Blackgate. Both families were not pleased with the sentence, but neither were they upset. After the trial, Bruce had asked his father why he had not given a harsher punishment. In his studies, he'd read about the great Roman Emperors who had sent the most violent of criminals to horrendous deaths.

His father had smiled and replied, "A good king doesn't rule with an iron fist, but with a wise and compassionate hand. Had I sentenced the man to death, the cycle of violence would have continued among the families. Granted they are not at peace, but they are not at war either. It is also my hope that the accused, despite his mistake, will learn the value of human life. He lost his son, yes, but in taking vengeance he has doomed his family and himself to a life without each other. Perhaps in time, he will have been reformed and learned from his mistake. No man is beyond redemption."

Bruce had taken his father's words to heart then, however now he found it difficult at times to see the good in people. Since his father's death he had only looked for the bad. Standing here now, with this murderer at his mercy, Bruce didn't believe redemption was in the man's heart, but perhaps he had kin who depended on him? He wouldn't know, because this wasn't a trial. It was an execution.

Meeting Ducard's stare, he replied. "I will not have this man's blood on my hands, nor anyone else who may depend on him."

Slade went still, his blue eye wide and distant. A name crossed his mind, "Jericho..." He thought absently. His head bowed.

"You would not have his blood on your hands, but the blood of every life he would take should he live." Ducard countered.

Talia was becoming uneasy, feeling this debate was quickly turning into a confrontation of ideals and perhaps soon... something else.

Bruce was ready to argue that he would be responsible for only his own actions, when Ras al Ghul at last decided to break his silence. "You have shown weakness and negligence, Prince of Gotham. You cannot lead these men unless you are prepared to do what is necessary to defeat evil!"

"To Gotham. Under what pretense? Liberator or conqueror?" He rasped, his tone becoming vehement.

"Such would depend on your own choices and the choices of those who stand against your claim to the throne. As Gotham's heir, you shall be placed to strike at the heart of criminality and evil."

"How?" Bruce demanded, eager to receive all the answers that had been kept from him since being brought here.

"Gotham's time has come. Your kingdom has become a breeding ground for suffering and injustice. Its salvation may be brought by one of two of ways: reformation... or destruction."

Bruce became incensed. "You mean to sack Gotham? My home?!"

"If left with no other choice, then yes, we will." Ras drawled.

"This is why you were brought here, Bruce." Ducard revealed. "Through you, we have the chance to save the realm of Gotham. By placing one of our own on the throne, we ensure Gotham's survival and for it to be ruled with our ideals and the promise of true justice."

"And if I refuse... you will wage war on my homeland?" Bruce's attitude turned dour as he beheld his mentor in a new light or darkness rather.

"This is the most important function of the League of Shadows. It is one we have performed for centuries." Ras continued.

"We have sacked Rome in its past. Most recently we razed Camelot to the ground, driving away all of its warlocks, witches and false kings. You have the chance to spare Gotham such a fate." Ducard interjected. "All the lies and the hidden conspirators within Gotham will be brought to light."

Bruce had silently become increasingly bitter as he listened to their threats and proposals. The feeling of betrayal did not escape him as he glared at his mentor, Ducard, with accusation. All pretense and facades cast aside. "You speak of lies and hidden conspiracies when you yourself have kept your true identity hidden from me this whole time... Ras."

A pregnant silence filled the League of Shadow's camp as Lord Henry Ducard's expression fell to one of immense surprise before his student. He had not expected this. Bruce's tone had been filled with such confidence and unwavering resolve that all those present knew he was not making baseless assumptions. Talia appeared guarded but her blue eyes carried the same shock that was being felt by all except the one who had just spoken. Months of lies and omissions having found their way from the shadows and into the light yet it appeared they'd already been well seen.

Ducard allowed an admirable smile to form on his face as he beheld his defiant apprentice. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough to be attentive to the signs. A man who threatens to poison my drink at the first sign of trouble would not do so unless he carried the authority for such a decision."

Ducard smirked sullenly, realizing when he had first slipped up.

"And a man as revered and ambitious as Ras al Ghul would have kept a prisoner of my station close to him through the duration of my training instead of handing it off to a subordinate." Bruce acknowledged.

Ducard glanced to his loyal bodyguard and decoy, who had maintained his silence throughout this entire exchange, and gave him a consenting nod. "Stand down, Ubo." The decoy Ras al Ghul shed all facades of leadership and superiority and bowed his head deferentially to the true Head of the Demon.

"My lord." He acknowledged standing aside so Ducard - Ras al Ghul - may stand face-to-face with his student. Talia hesitantly stood aside, still not comfortable with the way things were turning.

"I underestimated you, Bruce. But this outcome, however unexpected, does not come unappreciated."

Bruce furrow his eyebrows.

"Years worth of training mastered within the span of a few months, the vast knowledge of history and many cultures learned... That you were capable of discerning my true name in itself proves the promise you hold. You are my greatest student..." There was no levity in Ras al Ghul's words. Despite all of this, Bruce felt slightly humbled.

A look of indignation came over Talia for a moment upon hearing this however she bit her tongue. On the ground, Slade's naked eye continued to assess his surroundings, a strategic plan taking shape in his mind.

"Let no misguided ideals nor hidden identities bar you from your destiny, Bruce." Ras beseeched him again.

Bruce shrugged however he regarded him seriously. "And what is my destiny to be exact? What is it you have truly planned for me upon returning to Gotham? Speak plainly."

"Once the throne is yours and the kingdom is reformed, will the strength of our bonds increase. You will have an army..." Ras' gaze shifted over to his daughter Talia. "And a queen..." He smiled warmly.

Bruce blinked in surprise at this proposal before he glanced at Talia beside him in question. "Talia?"

She did not appear to be at all shocked or displeased by this revelation. "We only wish what is best for Gotham... and for you, beloved."

Bruce began to wonder just how much did she know and had not told him? His mind wandered back to their conversation when she had returned from a mission. She had mentioned an old friend in exile who would be allowed to return to the Shadows should Talia succeed in a "service" after Bruce succeeded in his own training. Was this it? The bitterness inside of him only grew.

"Is that so? Or is this just a "service" you must fulfill to see a friend return?"

Talia's soft countenance turned affronted at his implication. "I would not willingly promise my life and future to a man I held no affection for." She glanced at her father sternly. "Not for anything." She turned back towards Bruce. "I do this because I wish to help you... so does my father."

"He is threatening to kill thousands - millions of innocents if I do not accept his path"

Talia's expression turned condescending. "'Innocent' is a strong word to throw around Gotham, Bruce."

Bruce hardened his eyes at her. "There are good people there who do not deserve to suffer the same fate of those who are not."

"None may need to. With my support, none would challenge you nor threaten your homeland. You will be a king to be feared and respected among men." Ras tried again.

"A puppet." Bruce growled.

A puppet whose strings were to be pulled by the man he thought to be his friend. A tense silence followed as this confrontation began to reach its boiling point. Bruce was angry, feeling betrayed and misled even by those who appeared to have shown genuine affection towards him. Shifting in his standing, he spared a harrowing glance at Slade still bowed in front of him then towards a ceramic jugs close by with the rest of the supplies the Shadows had wheeled in. He knew what they contained.

"Men such as this, Bruce, are not worth saving. There is no cure for evil. No sympathy nor compassion to be shown in the face of it. If you show such weakness it will exploit and destroy you entirely until you are left with only regret in your dying moments." Ras pressed, more aggressively this time.

Bruce glanced at Talia almost pleadingly. "You cannot believe in this..."

Talia sighed. "My father rescued many of these men and women from the darkest corners of their own hearts. All he asks in return is to have the courage to do what is necessary."

"I will go back to Gotham and I will fight men like this, but I will not become an executioner." Bruce was adamant.

Ras' became increasingly concerned. "Bruce please, for your own sake, there is no turning back." He gestured to his sword which was again held out to him. Bruce recalled what the medicus told him about those who "failed" their tests. They would be killed if they refused this step. Bruce closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. There would be no convincing them... nor him. He glared disdainfully at the weapon then towards the prisoner.

He allowed himself a moment to consider the outcomes of his decision here. Taking a life was but half the issue. His insecurities towards his own self-control had always been a troubling thought for him even since before arriving here. His concern was for Gotham. His people. Accepting Ras al Ghul's plan would seem to be in the best interests of his people if he could prevent war and strife. But doing so would make him Ras' puppet for a lifetime. Gotham would forever belong to the League of Shadows, the Wayne Dynasty would be dead.

Would his parents have wanted this? Would they be proud that he would surrender Gotham's fate and security to a group vandals and assassins? What would Rachel think of him... and Alfred?

He bowed his head, his answers were clear but not comforting in his current situation. He felt a hand on his arm and glanced to his right to see Talia looking at him. "Please, beloved." She urged him.

Finding his resolve, Bruce glanced back towards Ras and nodded. He reached for the sword and unsheathed it from its scabbard. Slade tensed under the noise but remained stoic and silent. Talia squeezed Bruce's arm reassuringly as she stepped aside to allow him space. Bruce eyed the flaming poker then the ceramic jugs and with a flick of his sword, he sent the poker flying towards the jug and it spilled over, shattering into flames. Black oil spilled out from it along the campsite.

"What are you doing?!" Ras yelled.

"What is necessary."

* * *

The flames spread rampant throughout the camp, setting some of the unknowing assassins on fire who began to scurry and scream in pain. Slade did not let his surprise stall him. Acting sharp, he rolled forward along the ground and tripped Anton's feet out from under him.

After igniting the oil jug, Bruce used the distraction to bash Ras al Ghul across the face with the cross of his sword - knocking him out. All the assassins reacted and drew their swords. Ubo stood at the front, enraged at Bruce's actions.

"Infidel!" He spat.

Bruce held his sword ready in a defensive position. Ubo snarled as he drew his sword and charged - engaging the defiant younger man. He kicked Bruce back a step and growled out to the other assassins. "He is mine!"

Talia backed away, surprised and horrified by what was happening. "What have you done, Bruce?" She fell beside her father to assess his condition. In the background, the other assassins were scrambling to put out the spreading fires in the campsite that would be soon to interact with the surrounding trees in the forests they stood within.

Slade kicked Anton in the face after taking him off his feet, and stunned him long enough for the bound mercenary to stretch his arms forward from beneath him and take the keys to his shackles off Anton's belt. Another assassin seemed to spot his encroaching escape and charged at Slade, weapon raised. Slade waited for the right moment, and used his leg strength to catch his attacker around the ankle in a drop-toe hold. Slade rolled along his back towards the front of the assassin and snapped his neck with his legs, all the while using his hands to undo his shackles.

Once he was free, he removed the gag around his mouth and flexed his jaw. "Well, if this is not interesting..."

Bruce and Ubo clashed swords with relentless aggression and reckless abandon as they neared another jug of oil. Talia raised her head, turning away from observing her unconscious father and saw the prisoner had managed to free himself. Unacceptable. She turned over her shoulder and called to one of the lingering assassins attempting to extinguish the spreading flames.

"Sound the call for reinforcements. Take my father back to his castle!"

"Yes, my lady!" Two of the assassins obliged and lifted Ras al Ghul off the ground. Soon after the sound of a horn sang through the air.

Slade rose to his feet and scanned his surroundings until he finally spotted his weapons on the ground near a wagon. "Just my luck." Another league assassin attempted to engage the mercenary. Slade expertly dodged the swings of his sword thrusts, waiting for an opening. He shoved the assassin back a few steps then leaped to deliver a jumping high kick.

Bruce was astounded by Ubo's immense strength, long hidden beneath the ceremonial robes he'd used to disguise himself as his master. The master assassin's blade became locked with Bruce's as he attempted to shove the young prince back against the jug of oil; to make him share the same fate as a number of his brethren who had just burned because of the young man in front of him.

"You have betrayed us!" Ubo drawled viciously.

"I was lied to!" Bruce countered, seething in their power struggle.

"Your kingdom will now burn because of your defiance. But the fire shall consume you long before it reaches Gotham." He chuckled darkly.

Bruce glanced to his right through the corner of his eye and could see the flames getting close. He couldn't afford to linger here too long. The flames would consume this entire forest the longer they went rampant. Sacrificing his free hand, Bruce slammed his fist into Ubo's exposed torso, winding him. Using the advantage, Bruce spun around him and slashed his sword across Ubo's exposed back. The master assassin cried out in pain as he fell to his knees, hand across his scratched and bleeding back.

Talia waited in a clear spot away from the fighting for reinforcements to arrive.

Slade made it towards his weapons and threw them on with haste. Knife belts first, then the sling of his crossbow and his sword and scabbard. He found his mask close to the flames and rescued it before it could be scorched. "I have had enough of this place."

He glared at his surroundings and could see the the man who had bested him in combat. The man who he now knew to be the Crown Prince of Gotham. The man who refused to end his life. He was close to being overwhelmed by the assassins he had turned his back on.

The mercenary glanced towards the unguarded path that would lead him out of this hellhole, then back towards the outnumbered man. He shook his head with a frustrated growl as he drew his sword and marched back into the thick of the battle. "Today is your lucky day, boy."

After Bruce had temporarily subdued Ubo, he was soon ambushed by two assassins, Gallic and Horus, who had turned away from their efforts to extinguish the uncontrollable flames and decided to punish the one responsible despite their superior's orders. Bruce traded blows with his single sword between their two with such haste that if he relented for a moment it would cost him dearly.

Through their barrage, Bruce had failed to notice a tree root poking up from the ground until it challenged his footing. He stumbled backward which gave enough time Gallic to kick him in the torso. Bruce fell back against a tree, his sword still in hand. Gallic swung his sword at Bruce's shoulder. Bruce blocked the blade with his own, but he remained trapped between the tree and his opponent, enabling Horus to move in for the kill. Before he could, his arm was cut free from his body in a shower of blood. The assassin cried in pain before he was silenced with a blade to the torso.

"Horus?" Gallic was surprised, just as Bruce was, to see the prisoner had remained behind instead of fleeing. "You!" Gallic cried. With the distraction, Bruce headbutted him and shoved him away.

Slade nodded. "Me." He impaled Gallic with a single thrust of his sword, waiting for his body to fall limp before shoving him off onto the ground.

Bruce held his sword in a defensive posture as he glared at the mercenary with a mixture of scorn and surprise. Slade made no move to attack him. "Why haven't you run? Why are you helping me?" Bruce demanded.

Slade rolled his blue eye as he secured the top of his mask over his head. "I may be a hired killer, but I am not without honor. You refused to take my life, for whatever reasons. That dept demands repayment."

"I do not need your help!" Bruce growled.

A dark chuckle emerged from Slade's throat. "I would not be sure of that." He gestured his head in the direction of the castle where in the distance a pack of assassins on horseback were galloping their way.

Bruce scanned the area and spotted the remaining jugs of oil. Taking the initiative, he rushed over towards them and began to spill them in a line across the ground. Slade watched him closely and could see what he was planning. "Clever..."

Before Bruce could finish, he was caught by surprise by the swing of a sword nearly hitting his gut. Anton. "I knew you were an unworthy swine the moment you were brought before us!" He spat, eager to dismember and kill his former rival. "Now you will die, you fool."

Slade narrowed his eyes at the league assassin and slowly made his approach. Anton and Bruce traded attacks until they came to a stand-still. A dark looming shadow came from behind Anton. "I never did tell you my name..." Slade's baritone voice was calm and deadly. He pulled the top of his mask down fully. "But I did promise to show you..."

Anton went still with anticipation. Eyes wide, he spun and aimed his sword high only to feel one slice across his throat. Slade stood in a frozen position, sword held outward, the edge of his blade dripping with Anton's blood. From behind his mask, he glared fiercely into the assassin's wide and shocked eyes.

* * *

"Deathstroke..." Slade hissed.

Anton fell to his knees, gagging from the amount of blood spilling from his neck before he went still on the ground, releasing a choking breath of air before succumbing to death. Bruce glared at Slade, every impulse in his body urging him to stop this man. Before he could consider further, he was taken by surprise along with Slade, as Ubo had regained himself and charged back into the fight, knocking Slade down from behind.

Ubo's blade collided with Bruce's in a loud clash of steel. Slade growled his teeth as he pounced back up to his feet and moved to strike down the master assassin from behind. A gust of wind blew in from his right side and he at first assumed it to be the the flames acting up, but once he felt a boot connect with his jaw did he realize his miscalculation. He fell backward but managed to land in a crouching position.

His blue eye slowly glared upwards at the female assassin who had took him by surprise.

"Execution or not, you will face justice by my blade," Talia unsheathed her nagato sword and took a fighting position.

Bruce was momentarily distracted as he saw Talia challenging Slade to a one-on-one duel. This would not end well - for her. "What are you doing, Talia!" He parried another blow from Ubo and bashed his elbow into the older man's chin.

"What you could not, Bruce." She bitterly replied.

Slade rose to his feet and flexed his wrist - sword in hand - and pointed it at Talia. "Pretty face or not, I will kill you."

Talia cocked her head and gestured him to come at her. "Let us see if your reputation precedes you."

Slade chuckled coldly before lunging at the brunette with ruthless speed. Talia barely managed to parry but her agility would prove advantageous as she ducked a backward swing of his sword and aimed a backward high kick across his face. Not giving him a moment of respite, she twirled to aim a downward slash of her sword only to have it blocked.

Despite everything that had happened to him today, Bruce didn't wish to see Talia fall. Not because of him and his actions here. Shoving Ubo off of him, Bruce struck him with the pommel of his sword across the temple, sending him down to one knee, dazed.

Talia and Slade danced with athletic fury, their blades ever close to making their mark on the other. The rise in temperature due to the surroundings fires was making them all perspire heavily, especially Slade from behind his mask. Mindful of his surroundings, Slade knew it wouldn't be long before the reinforcements reached them.

They needed to end this now.

Slade locked his blade with Talia's and held her arm in a grapple to throw her off balance. Talia kneed him in the gut. Slade backhanded her aggressively then followed up with a slash to her arm. Talia gasped as at the stinging pain and recoiled a moment. Slade swept her leg out from under her, forcing her to the ground hard. Talia was disoriented, only managing to see a red blur - fires surrounding them.

Slade twirled his blade in the air and held it in a impaling motion. "What a waste..."

"No!" Bruce shoulder charged into Slade, sending the mercenary falling to the side. Talia blinked, surprised at what just happened.

Slade cursed as he rolled to his feet and stood face-to-face with Bruce, silently fuming. "What are you doing?" He growled.

"Enough bloodshed!" Bruce growled back.

Slade shook his head. "Unbelievable."

Both men, so distracted in their tug-of-war, forgot Ubo who had lashed at Slade with his sword, managing to cut the assassin across the shoulder. A well placed elbow and a connecting head butt sent the mercenary backward to the ground. Ubo turned his attention back to Bruce and leveled him with a haymaker to the face then another to his gut. Bruce felt the air leave his lungs from the relentless assault.

Talia slowly regained her feet.

Bruce fell to his knees and looked up at Ubo's wide and insanely malicious eyes. Blood dripped down his face from a cut above his eye which made him appear all the more frightening. "Die, infidel." He raised his sword to end Bruce's life. Unbeaten, Bruce raised his sword at the last moment to block the attack.

The loud clang of steel was almost deafening to Bruce who cringed, holding his opponent's blade back by a breath from his face. Ubo snarled, pushing his full strength into his attack but to no avail. Bruce bared his teeth, his defiance shown plainly. Ubo glanced up and could see Talia had regained her feet and her sword.

"My lady, end his life! He is at our mercy!" Ubo riled her.

Talia stood frozen beside Bruce and one her father's oldest friends. She glanced at the sword in her hand, uncertain while Bruce watched her through the corner of his eye, gauging her response. She hesitated longer than he gave her credit for. "I-I..." Talia was tongue tied as she glanced helplessly between Bruce and Ubo, the latter of whom was confused by her respite.

Seizing the opportunity, Bruce rolled out from beneath Ubo's weapon which impaled the ground at the released pressure. Bruce slashed his sword across Ubo's thigh, stunning the master assassin. The surprising assault was long enough for Slade to approach Ubo from behind and wait. Once Ubo turned around, Slade, with one swipe of his sword, beheaded the master assassin.

"Somehow I doubt he agreed with you," Slade sarcastically retorted to Bruce's comment towards bloodshed. Bruce exhaled roughly as he regained his feet. Talia slowly fell back towards a tree, cradling her wounded arm.

A harrowing silence followed.

Bruce's gaze turned to Talia whose cold blue eyes glared at the beheaded body of a man she knew since childhood. Her father's protector as well as one of her own. What had she done? What could she do? Her misty eyes turned to Bruce and she glared hard at him.

"You and my father are now enemies..." She murmured quietly. "An olive branch was passed but it has now turned into a sword..."

Bruce heard her clear as day but gave no reply.

A horn sounded not too far. Both men looked up and could the reinforcements closing in. The fires around them were taking on a new height. Burning branches began to teeter and break under their declining strength above them.

"Looks like more have come to play," Slade grimly commented.

Bruce thought back to his earlier tactic and returned to the oil jug and poured it the rest of the way along the ground. The mercenary waited until Bruce was done as he stood in front of the still burning cauldron that would have been used in the Joining Ceremony. The reinforcements were closing in fast.

"Now!" Bruce yelled.

Slade kicked the cauldron, spilling the fire and burning hot coals over the oil, igniting an inferno that halted the encroaching tide. Bruce could hear the assassins yelling over the chaos. High above, he could hear the sounds of snapping tree branches.

Despite his distaste and unwillingness to be working with this man, this murderer, Bruce gave him a nod of compliance.

"Let's get out of here."

Slade gave no argument, having had his fill of league assassins and dark forests. He made haste to the north of the forests where he originally had come from.

Bruce picked up his discarded scabbard and spared a sympathetic look towards Talia who glared daggers at him. Her being was filled with warring emotions - anger for his choice of abandonment; gratitude that he saved her life. Her currently most powerful emotion drove her promising words.

"We will meet again, beloved. Count on it!" She cried, voice laced with bitterness and heartbreak. She turned and raced back into the depths of the burning forests to reunite with her brethren.

* * *

Bruce's passive mask returned along with his resolve to leave this place behind him as he watched her disappear from sight. He would bear no regrets and no doubts about the choice he made here today. It was time to go home.

* * *

Bruce ran without looking back to the north end of the forests. He could see Slade running a few paces up ahead of him. The grounds of the forests shook with thunder. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Bruce could see that one of the assassins had made it through the wall of fire they had built and was quickly gaining ground on him. Without warning, an arrow whizzed over his head and struck the assassin straight in the temple, sending him tumbling off the saddle - dead.

Bruce looked ahead and could see Slade at the edge of the clearing with his crossbow in hand. Bruce half-expected another arrow to come at him, but to his astonishment, Slade merely waited for him to reach the edge of the forests. The horse which had previously lost its rider continued to race in the same direction as Bruce, perhaps running away from the danger of the spreading fires.

Once he broke the tree-line of the forests and into the open, Bruce halted in his steps and leaned forward, hands on his knees, panting for breath. His sweaty exhausted features were caressed by cool winds, alleviating him.

He had made it.

Across from him, Slade took slower but deeper breaths as well. The mercenary turned to face his would be executioner. "They will be regrouping soon to come after you... and me. I suggest you tuck tail and run to the nearest town or village if you value your as-s." He approached the horse and began to inspect its saddle.

Bruce furrowed his brow at him. "What was all of that back there?"

"Exactly what I said it was: repayment." Slade brusquely said .

"And what happens now?" Bruce deadpanned. He didn't know what to expect of this man. He knew his profession, but he was unpredictable and deadly. One moment he could be saving his life, the next he could be either taking it or selling it to an interested party.

"We go our separate ways..." Slade glared at him hard, a hand resting on his sword at his side. "Unless you choose to pursue me, if so that is another matter." His threat hung heavy in the air.

"That's it?" Bruce scoffed.

Slade cocked his head at him. "Even if I was interested in hauling your royal carcass to enemies of Gotham, I doubt it would be worth much by the time I get there."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. "Your meaning?"

"Before I was captured outside of the city of Starling, I heard talks about the missing Prince of Gotham. About how he up and vanished, leaving his people to rot and fend for themselves. That was a month ago. What I'd heard later was in about month's time a new royal bastard was going to be put on the throne." Slade mounted the horse while Bruce took all this, contrite and dismayed.

"By the time I deliver your self-righteous a-s-s to Gotham or any other interested parties, you won't be worth a thing, because someone else will be occupying your chair in your castle. Word of advice - if you hope to survive your pilgrimage, the next time its either you or the one trying to kill you - kill them first."

Bruce remained stoic. "Like I should have killed you?"

"Time will tell."

Bruce only now realized that Slade was taking with him the only horse that would help him get to Gotham faster. He glanced around and could see nothing but a wasteland in front with the forests at the back. "Lose something?" Slade sullenly asked.

"I need that horse."

A dry chuckle escaped the mercenary. "That makes two of us. If you want to run back into the burning forest to find another, you are welcome to." Slade began to turn his mount.

Bruce felt conflicted, believing he was betraying all logic and his ideals to allow this man to go free. What could he do? He could not kill him. He could not try to take him prisoner to the nearest settlement and hand him over to whatever authority ruled there. He had no rope to tie him up even. Frustrated but mostly poised, Bruce marched forward beside him and voiced.

"Stay out of Gotham, or make no mistake - I will make sure you pay for your crimes."

Slade paused to regard the Prince of Gotham one more time. "You best hurry to claim your throne then, otherwise you are only words." He kicked his horse and began to gallop away. "Until next time..." He called over his shoulder.

* * *

Bruce closed his eyes and released a tired sigh. It felt as if an important chapter of his unnatural life had just closed, and another was soon to open. It was before though that he had many people to guide his way. People he cared about and trusted. Some he cared for, some he felt he did not and others he knew that he should not. Even with their guidance he had always felt alone within his soul. A weeping 8yr old boy, lost and frightened after experiencing the evils that resided within this world. And yet somehow he had managed to come this far.

Except only now - he stood alone. In every sense of the word.

The thought was gratifying as it was disheartening. Opening his eyes, still standing outside the forests, he took in the desolate landscape ahead of him. To the north there was but plains and a narrow road leading to the horizon. To the west stood high mountains. Gotham was to the west. He had a month to get home and he knew that on foot it would be nearly impossible to make that journey in time. He didn't believe in luck and he didn't believe in destiny. He would either succeed or fail.

Sword in hand he impaled it into the soil beneath him and crouched down, sitting on his heels, hands wrapped around the hilt, his brow resting against the cross of his weapon, eyes half-lidded. Weary... apprehensive.

"Do not be afraid, Bruce..." Bruce closed his eyes fully as that familiar voice came through. A trick of the wind perhaps, or an encouraging memory to alleviate his turmoil? He couldn't be sure, but he took the words to heart. A soothing comfort from the one man he still, above all others, looked to in moments of doubt and disquiet. A comfort in the belief that his father would have been proud of the decision he made here today in refusing Ras al Ghul's path, despite the possible consequences.

If he had any hope of getting home, he would have to face the wilderness and all its unknown dangers and obstacles with the utmost haste and efficiency. He could not fail now. He would not.

Bruce felt a tingling sensation on his hands and his brow. Looking up he could see a slow and gentle snowfall coming over him. The afternoon sun had disappeared behind the thick and looming gray clouds above. He did not have many hours until nightfall and if Slade was correct, that meant Ras would be sending men in pursuit of him. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the League of Shadows as possible.

It was time to be free of this place.

Pulling his sword free from the earth, he sheathed his blade and drew up the hood to his robes with a determined visage, then began to make his way to the snowy mountains; beginning the long journey home.

* * *

**{END OF ACT ONE}**

* * *

**A/N: A big thank you to all you readers for taking a interest into this story that my good friend and I forge together. My friend wrote this exciting chapter. I promise the next few chapters will have lots of Diana.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14  
**

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

The pale wintery sky released flakes of snow as evergreens dropped down from the heavy blankets of snow piling on their lush branches. Princess Diana stood on an arched brick bridge, hair tucked underneath her white hood. Her boots were imbedded into the high inched snow. She now wore a moderately warm winter cloak over her white dress beneath to help her bear through cold weather. Positioned not too far away from her was Helena crouched near the running creek, sharpening her arrows in a silent manner while listening for movements in the shadows of the forest.

A week had passed since the wayward princess had met the "Huntress", as she was so called, during her travels and since then they'd formed a quiet bond grown from their love of nature and their distrust and contempt towards those who may threaten it. There was much about themselves they had chosen to divulge towards one another, but neither further pressed the other when they sensed an omission in each others tales. Neither could fully trust the other so soon in their companionship; that much would go without being said.

Locked in her own thoughts, Diana rested a gloved hand on the ledge and narrowed her fierce gaze at the calm frozen water below. She felt a combustion of remorse kindling within her. Confusion and uncertainty towards her goals she had set for herself after having left Themyscira - having left her mother and sisters. Since that day of crossing the great sea and witnessing the might of the gods as waves rocked the merchant ship, she learned of the inner desires of the human heart.

Contemplative words spoken from lips. She'd saved many lives from the destruction of man over the course of months since she had arrived. Now she felt so a little in this 'new world.' There was so much to be taught and to observe. At times it had seemed like there was a veil covering her eyes from the truth that her mother had concealed from her all these years.

Diana was no longer bound to her mother's laws, she was free to venture out and see life in a whole new perspective. She knew there would be wonders as well as dangers and for that she held onto her mother's teachings and her training, wary of those she may come across. Her companion, Helena however, felt trustworthy - unlike the traitor Alkyone.

"Heed my warning: do not underestimate the mortals. They will trick you and use you. No mortal on this earth is pure of heart. They all have their dark sides." Her mind rephrased the rogue Amazon's words.

Her ocean blue eyes watched as Helena cantered to the archway from the edge of the forest where bare trees were imprisoned with sheets of ice.

Lifting her head, she gazed at the December sky. Layers of clouds and wisps of ice crystals formed above. Her lips formed a content smile; her lashes flickered as snow formed on their tips. Moments with scenery's such as this were nonexistent on Themyscira which inspired the princess to enjoy them to their fullest; and to hold them close to thought and memory.

Helena shuffled her boots into the snow as she approached. Diana turned her steady gaze and smiled. "This winter takes much to get used to, dear Helena. I am starting to admire the enchantments it brings to the forest and river." She gestured her hands to the creek. "The splendor is truly the works of the gods this day."

"Winter is an unforgiving season of change." Helena spoke as she approached.

Diana stood motionless as she regarded those words. "I don't understand why you can't see the beauty of this world. It is like you have a veil over yours eyes let's you only see the darkness."

"You have not seen the darkness the lurks in these parts." Helena growled as she continued. "Your eyes only observe what you wish to see." She shot a glance at the bare trees. "For me, my life is an endless winter. It becomes colder each year that I fail - to break my vow to preserve innocence." She paused. "Each arrow that I sharpen represents a piece of my soul that edges within. When I release them into the air, it symbolizes what freedom from utter pain could be like."

Helena lifted her chin, looking at the ceiling of clouds. "Once you feel the moment of freedom. You hunt for it." She replied in a somber tone.

Diana nodded silently. "Where are we heading on this night ?"

"There?" Helena pointed in the direction of an abandoned stone church standing mightily above the thicket of trees. "It will be our place of refugee for the evening. The gypsy camp takes a day to venture towards. We need to rest for that long journey."

The princess parted her lips. "Will our friends be all right at your cabin?" She asked thinking of Leya.

"My wolves will protect your mare, Diana. There is nothing to worry, for she is safe." Helena straightened. "Come, we must make haste before the sun dims."

Diana agreed and followed Helena down a slope of snow as they continued towards the grounds of the church, passing grave stones crumbling from age and decadence.

* * *

The clear blue hues of twilight vanished. The temperature had dropped making the walking conditions harsh to travel through the thick drifts of snow. The edge of the night was approaching as the warm glows of nearby towns lit their way as Diana walked alongside Helena.

They ignored their frozen limbs as their boots dug deeper into small hills. The gravestones were growing larger with crosses mounted on the heads as they finally reached the grounds of the vast church; created from bricks and mortar, but forgotten all the same.

"Who dwells here, Helena?" Diana asked, rubbing her hands together.

"Many children find refuge in churches such as this one." Helena explained as she pushed open the thick wooden doors of the entrance. "It is all they have for shelter." She raised her dark olive green eyes and gazed at the high bell tower. "Come," she gestured looking over her shoulder at the dark haired princess. "We'll rest here for the night."

"Why are there so many lost children?" Diana questioned stepping into the dark hall.

"Around these parts, Diana, innocence is the greatest victim. Most of the children that I find hiding in places like this church are alone. Murder had stricken their families as if it were a plague. I fear that it will only worsen over time." There was hint of bitterness in her voice.

Diana had a sinking feeling that she was going to hear another part of her friends story. "People never care about a small child who walks the streets, asking for warmth as her limbs grow numb. Tears of fear and sorrow inside her ducts are frozen. All she has left is a symbol that she carries." Helena's eyes narrowed at the silver cross dangling around her neck.

She entered the altar room. Its stone walls were crumbling, candles on metal rods were now gobs of wax. The altar was intact and a wooden cross hung on the wall behind it. Jars and dishes used to carry incense sat empty upon the altar. She advanced as Diana stood near a pillar, and knelt down in front of the cross bowing her head.

"Why are you kneeling?" The princess questioned. "I don't see any statues?"

Helena clenched her jaw. "It is a sign of respect to my faith, Highest. I know that you're used to seeing images and statues carved in the likeness of your deities within your temples. Just because I cannot see mine does not mean that it is not real within this room - within this world. That is faith."

She narrowed her eyes to the silver cross hanging on a chain around her neck. "Our world would be a deary place if there was no faith - a light, a beacon of hope." She arose from the floor. "It is what gives us strength. All you need to believe in the purity of the human soul is hope, faith and love. If you accept that, then you will see the unseen world lift the curtain that covers our own."

She moved to a rod and lifted up a shapely candle.

"Than I respect your beliefs." Diana replied. "How did you come to know all of this?"

Helena released a deep sigh. "I was the little girl walking the streets after being the only survivor of my family. I ran away waiting for death to find me."

"Did it?"

"It was Christi massa - commonly known as Christmas in some places. When I crawled onto the steps of a church, I had accepted hunger and my fate. The door opened and out came this warm light. A man stepped forth and wrapped his arms around me. I was brought inside..." She paused. "That is all I remember from that night. After that I was trained by a groups of men in a monastery. They taught me how to fight and to become an archer. On the day of my final test I made a vow that every innocent child in this deceitful world would find sanctuary."**  
**

Helena settled her cloak onto the stone floor as she continued.

"A haven for shelter and protection from the darkest of demons that walk this world disguised in human flesh. I have seen these devils in my travels. Not just the caliginous mages that I spoke of before... The vilest form of men that corrupt and drain the life that flows through our very veins. My parents did not die from a fiend. They were murdered in cold blood by a such a man - a demon named Mandragora. My mortal foe."

She paused in her frosty words. "I witnessed their deaths as I hid in a dark confinement with only the comfort of angelic wings to shield me." Her half leather glove, bare at the fingers, lifted up the cross bow. "That is the reason why I became the Huntress."

The Amazon princess lowered her head. "I still need to find my purpose in this life, my friend. I have saved a few lives in my travels in this new world I have come to, but I still carry troubled thoughts towards my homeland. To returning to my mother's Queendom."

"Then why don't you return? As a stranger to the customs of these lands and being mindful of the surrounding dangers, I suggest that you set sail back to your island - find your destiny there. For this world is not a place where dreams can be forged, princess. Here dreams can be destroyed."

Diana gave her a blank look. Blood from the apples of her cheek drained as her sea-water blue eyes became teary with an unsettled spirit that was trapped deep within her shell. Still there was a flame that burned inside her restless spirit for justice and protecting the innocents. Months in her travels she had seen the weak being made prey, the innocents made falsely wrong and peace and justice denied of those who deserved and needed it most.

She wanted to prove something to herself, to her patron gods that guided her during her travels.

"No. I must to see this through, Helena." She spoke in a powerful tone that rattled through her vocal cords. "Though I do not know that the Fates hold for my future, I do know thing... that I was created for reason, and that is all I need to know."

Helena gestured a small nod of agreement. "The battles that we will face are not going to be effortless. They will burdensome. Are you prepared to face the embittering challenges ahead, princess?"

Diana lifted her gaze to the hole above the rafters as light snow flakes trickled in, with the shafts of moon beams captured in the pools of her tranquil hues; ruby blades parted as she confessed her answer.

"I am ready."

"Good, let's take some rest, Diana. We have a long journey ahead of us. One that will define who you are and your place in this world. Perhaps soon, you will have earned a title – a name of your own."

* * *

Fragments of fresh December snow fell across the land, creating white blankets of nature's purity on the gravel roads. Horse tracks were covered with powdery dust as the clever minded Selina Kyle and her childhood companion Zatanna Zatarra traveled to the outskirts of the kingdom.

"Why are you bringing this burden upon yourself, kitten." The raven haired magician asked as she felt the coldness of winter begin to enter through her gloved fingertips. "You're venturing into the deep end. Its not like you to be this righteous, to become part of a battle that is not your own."

"I have my reasons," Selina breathed as the cold air filled her lungs as her crimson lips parted. Her amber-copper eyes shifted forward, gazing at the faint glow reflecting off the prisms of snow. She pulled out her sword from beneath her black cloak and raised the blade high above her shapely shoulders.

"For years I have watched poverty grow in the heart of Gotham. It will only grow worse if that boy takes the throne and becomes a puppet to those noble swines." She spat, thinking of the barons and their plans to buy the throne. "A grim future awaits us all if that happens."

Zatanna was puzzled. "You're risking your own hide to save the monarchy of Gotham. I sense distress lies within your heart, Selina. You do not have pure intentions - this is not the right path to follow."

Selina's jaw tightened. She halted in a battle stance. "We're not alone in these parts. I can sense ill company awaits ahead. Stay alert." She commanded.

A mighty black Alt-Oldenburger stallion - known as "old' in Germanic terms - positioned itself on a bank by the ridge of the road. A cloaked rider gripped the reigns tightly as his black coated armor gleamed and torch light reflected off his silver gauntlets. He turned his deadly gaze to his companion. "The master wants the wenches alive. He suspects they may prove useful."

The older man dressed in brown tinged garments nodded. "One of them is a mage, Sir Gallo. You are prepared to face such a threat?"

"Poor judgement is a weakness that I cannot share with you." Gallo dismounted from his horse. "Stay with Arrowslade," he commanded. "If you fail me, Tobin, I will have your head on a pike."

"I will not fail you." Tobin addressed, swallowing the fear that dripped like acid down his throat.

Gallo drew closer in the direction of Selina and Zatanna. Both dangerous and alluring women he had heard whispers of since coming to Gotham. Some of them were enticing as well as frightening.

A mage and thief.

His master knew of the value they would hold if they could be swayed to their cause. Gallo had much experience with women in the past to know they could be manipulative as well as deadly, especially when given purpose. Such women as the thief across from him spurred his desires farther than any challenge he would undertake.

Securing a charmed pendent around his neck, the Gotham knight made his slow non-hostile approach.

Selina caught a glimpse of the devilish figure advancing closer to their position. She took a deep breath and glanced at Zatanna over her right shoulder. "Looks like our merriment has just started." She smirked.

Zatanna stood firmly, preparing her lips for an incantation as Gallo made his presence known. "Maidens," He announced, giving an exaggerated look at their surroundings. "A lovely night, is it not? Have no fear nor cause for strife. I come with great tidings for you both." His smirk was as smug as Selina's.

"Have we met before that we should have reason to give a damn, fair knight?" Selina flippantly replied.

Gallo's smirk turned sullen, his eyes narrowed.

"I am Gallo of the Gotham Knights. And no we have not met, but I have seen you both work from afar. You are women of much talent and potential. It is for that reason that I stand before you now."

Selina and Zatanna shared a confused look.

"Lifting a precious family heirloom from the Falcone Estate and making a feeble fool of Sir Flass does not go without commendation, ladies." Gallo elaborated, pleased to see the disconcerted look that came over both women.

Just as quickly as it came, that look of vulnerability disappeared and Selina curled her lips into an unamused smile. "Chivalry will get you nowhere with us, Sir Gallo. And the task of making a fool out of a Gotham knight, least of all Sir Flass, isn't a difficult task."

Gallo's expression fell.

"You claim to bring good tidings, let's hear them then." Zatanna interjected.

"Or collapse from our sight." Selina added irritably.

Gallo's hand tightened on the hilt to his sword as he restrained the urge to act rashly. He kept a composed posture as he began to move in small circles in front of them.

"Whispers have reached my ears of the both you. Your crimes and exploits stretching as far from Gotham, to Star, Keystone and Albion. Both of you will someday perhaps excel further than your father's before you." Troubled looks came over Zatanna and Selina. Gallo continued, "I represent an interested party whose influence is just as vast as your playing field. One who would make use of your fine talents."

"Who is this interested party?" Selina demanded.

"I cannot say."

"Cannot or will not?" She pressed.

Gallo scoffed. "Will not."

"eman sretsam ruoy laever!" Zatanna whispered her spell.

Both women watched, flabbergasted as the blonde knight released a dark chuckle. Zatanna's eyes narrowed at the charm around his neck that faintly glowed purple after her incantation. Gallo held up his finger and clicked his tongue.

"Tsk tsk. Do not bother, Zatanna Zatarra, daughter of John. I have faced many like you in my travels, and preparation will always get you so far."

Selina grew immensely annoyed with the knight's arrogance.

"But if you wish to meet my master, he awaits you near the old ruins, at the north-end of the forest. I can aide you in its direction."

Selina could see right through him. "Why should my friend and I agree to any of this?"

"You will not go unrewarded - my master is of considerable wealth and power. Rest assured fair maiden..." Gallo slowly approached Selina, a lascivious glint in his indigo blue eyes as they appraised the young brunette's fair features. "With the sum you would amass, you would never have to live the life you have been condemned into."

Selina became increasingly conflicted. However tempting his offer sounded, she had much experience with men to know if their intentions were pure or deceptive. From what she could could see in the knight's eyes, the truth was shrouded by a hidden desire encompassing him in her presence. It was disconcerting, how much he knew of her and for that reason she felt a sense of vulnerability. He could not be trusted or indulged.

She pointed her blade at him. "My answer is no. Now step aside." Gallo remained fixed in front of them. "Let us pass or else." Selina threatened.

Gallo furiously glanced at Zatanna who also shook her head. He scoffed, the final string of his patience now cut. "Or else what, little girl?" He chuckled. "You are damn fool to shun my proposal. Do you not realize what you are being offered? A life far removed from the dung-holes and caves your kind lurk-"

Selina lunged forward as her blade clashed with his. "I can see you don't accept "no" for answer. Perhaps a taste a steel will be more convincing." She coaxed.

Gallo shoved Selina off his sword and struck her sword arm with his closed fists, wrapped around the hilt. Selina gasped and fell back momentarily. Zatanna took the initiative and gestured her fingers at the Gotham knight.

"mrasid!"

Gallo's sword fell from his grasp, enabling Zatanna to attack with flurry of kicks and punches. "Damn you, witch!" He spat as he blocked her ankle and punched her to the ground. Selina regained her footing and lashed with her sword only to have it blocked by Gallo's.

"tneirosid!" Zatanna attempted another spell, only to have it nullified by the glowing pendent hanging from around the knight's neck. She shrugged frustratingly. It would appear her magic wouldn't work directly against him. His weapons and the objects on his person were another matter.

Left with no other option, the mage unsheathed her own sword to join Selina in their attack. They pressed forward, backing the Gotham knight against a tree. The blonde haired man was surprised, clearly having underestimated the swordsman skills of both maidens until he found himself cornered.

The sounds of steel clashing against steel and battle cries were silenced as Selina executed a cartwheel kick to Gallo's torso, sending him crashing against the tree. His body impacted the rough trunk hard before he crashed hard into the snow. Selina straddled him and placed her blade across his throat. She narrowed her frosty gaze at his angry features.

"You bitch," He hissed.

"You wear that mask of chivalry well, sir knight." Selina sharpy stated as Zatanna stood behind her. "But it doesn't fool me, I've worn plenty masks in my lifetime to know when I see one."

Gallo put on a mock-look of impression. "And which are you wearing now? Wounded cat?"

A hard elbow slammed into the side of his face, silencing his flippant response.

"Selina!" Zatanna admonished her.

Gallo grunted and spat a small trickle of blood from his mouth. He made no effort to retaliate as Selina's sword was still held at his throat. "I will take that as a 'yes'." He grunted.

Zatanna scowled as she reached forward and plucked the pendent from around his neck. Gallo stiffened angrily but was held at bay as the sharp reminder of his vulnerability pressed against his throat. Zatanna examined the crescent moon shaped object with an air of caution. It was vaguely familiar to her in her travels.

"Gods..." She trailed off in grim thought.

"What is it, Zatanna?" Selina beckoned her.

Zatanna glared at Gallo. "Dark magic surrounds this pendent. A powerful one that is so rarely felt throughout the world. How did you come by this?!" She demanded.

Gallo rolled his eyes. "Answers that would have come in time had you accepted my offer, witch. You most especially should have appreciated what you could do for your kind with all the wealth and power you would have been awarded."

Zatanna's fist tightened around the pendent as a dark thought crept into her mind. "You've heard the rumors, Selina. About the creature that slayed King Thomas and Queen Martha decades ago? And the shadow that has stalked the missing prince ever since?"

Selina began to catch on as she turned her glare upon the knight beneath her. "Is that who you work for?"

Gallo remained silent, a bemused smirk playing upon his lips. Selina took his silence as an admission. She pressed the blade further against his throat, close enough to draw a small trail of blood. Gallo grunted but maintained a passive look.

"Where is he?" Selina questioned icily.

"Where is who?" Gallo played with her mind.

"Don't play jest with me," Selina snarled. "If you work for that monster, you would know where the prince is!"

Gallo chuckled. "You are getting far ahead of yourselves, fair maidens. Jumping to conclusions and praying to land on proper footing - all you will earn is an embarrassing fall."

"So you say you don't know where the Prince of Gotham might be?" Zatanna's tone dripped with distrust.

Selina crouched down and grabbed his throat with her gloved hand. "You're lying!"

A devilish smirk came over the Gotham knight. "Even if I did know the prince's true fate, why should I tell you?"

Selina could see the want and desire in the knight's blue eyes. A look that she seemed to regularly incite from the men and sometimes women she would cross paths with each day in this forsaken kingdom. Her position on top of him seemed to only entice him further. Considering the knight before her, Selina would say he was not an unattractive man that she wouldn't find his lustful looks to be unflattering; but like most men she'd seen, she would hazard darker intentions lurked from within him.

Even still, she wasn't known to look in the face of danger and tremble.

"I could persuade you," She coaxed. She shifted in her position on top of him as her blade edged deeper against his skin. Gallo grunted at the double-edged meaning of her words. His mind warring between anger and desire.

"Or..." Zatanna interrupted. "I could just loosen your tongue now that you don't have this." She dangled the pendent in her fingers to make her point.

As if on cue, a scout horn blew not too far from their location. Selina and Zatanna looked startled while Gallo remained unfazed. "I would think otherwise, witch. Now do you wish to continue trading gossip like a bunch of fishwives? Or do you wish to reconsider my offer?"

As infuriating as his comment was, both women knew they were short on time. "Reinforcements will be here soon, Selina. We do not have time for this." Zatanna warned.

A second horn blared, signally a response for aid.

"Lest you both fancy being arrested for assaulting a Gotham knight, I suggest you accept my offer... or flee if you think you can manage the storm." Gallo taunted them.

Zatanna placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "We must move on before the storm comes."

The young ginger haired brunette bit her bottom lip. "That is the problem, Zana, there is a storm coming." She withdrew her hand and arose. Gallo rose to a seated position against the tree. Selina peered down at his shadowy gaze as his lips formed an unnerving grin.

"These fools had best batten down the hatches because once it hits, they will taste the satisfaction of cold death as it rattles through their bones like the forgotten kiss of a lover that brought forth only hatred from their hearts." She lowered herself down and kissed Gallo callously on the lips. She pulled away. "Something to remember me by."

Gallo sneered as he watched the two women disappear into the airy snowfall before his heated eyes. He rose to his feet, lifting his sword while in the background Tobin arrived with a small regiment of knights.

"Sir Gallo, are you all right?"

Gallo ignored his question as he absently watched the empty space. "Until we cross paths again, Selina Kyle."

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

The dimming sunlight fell captured in the misty passageways of the local village, veiled by the shadowy formations of cloud cover as two cloaked strangers entered the area of the inhabited tavern - torchlight gleamed through the streams of white silk and jet-black garments. Under the shroud, wary eyes conceived the desire for a harrowing virtuous conquest as the tallest of the two marched onto the floorboards and gazed at the candle light burning through the windows.

Her black leather riding boots echoed against the sleek wood as she moved to the entrance with sharp piercing ocean-blue eyes staring at a few depraved drunkards coaxing with a women dressed in black garments that left the flesh of her chests exposed. She kept a watchful glare at the debasement that surrounded around her as her traveling companion entered the doorway.

The stares that some of brutes gave irked Diana as she pulled off her cloak, letting the mass of her thick dark strands flow gently down to her shoulders. She walked over to a circular oak table and pulled out a chair. Helena sauntered over to the bar counter and placed two golden coins on the surface.

"Two pints." She ordered. The barmaid gave short nod and turned around, grabbing the steel mugs from a shelf.

"You're not from around here, are you stranger?" She spoke with a hint of an accent. "What are you seeking?"

Helena shrugged. "My friend and I have journeyed a long way. We are just resting and will carry on once our bellies are full." She looked straight into the thick set barmaid's eyes. "We seek a group gypsies that dwell in the forest of this village."

The barmaid gulped down.

"My father spoke of their kind - disgraceful demons that bring only their wickedness to the people that dwell here. Three days ago, two girls were at the hillside well gathering water. They never returned to their homes. Last night a pile of bones were left on the doorstep of one of the child's parents." She spoke grimly. "We know that with the traveling devils came a monster hidden within their camps. A cursed soul that is more animal than human."

"I know. That is what I am hunting for." Helena lifted up her cloak to reveal her crossbow. "Children have disappeared in the villages of my homeland. I seek a vendetta with this hellish creature."

The barmaid handed her the two pints. "All I can tell you is that you must walk further north, near the mountain pass. Look for fire pits and speak words to no one."

Helena nodded and moved to the table where Diana was sitting, looking out at the night sky. "We have received insight on the prey that we're hunting, princess. This cursed demon dwells in the mountain pass. The barmaid says two children have been murdered by it."

Diana's eyes widened, her eyes lamenting heartbreak upon hearing these words. "That beast will pay for what its done." She growled. "Is there any hope left for the children of this village?"

"Hope is fading, Diana. This village only has a small population of children. Only six remain. Last night bones of the missing two were found on a doorstep. The gypsies are dispensing their cursive pet on these children. My hunch is it is part of an occult ritual."

Diana straightened. "Then there is no time. We must make haste before another innocent becomes that monsters next feast."

Helena swallowed her ale and slammed the mug on the table. "We need a snitch." She ejected. "That's the only way we'll find out the exact location of the camp."

"Agreed." Diana answered, letting her fingers grasp her lasso clipped to her side. Her eyes scanned the customers of the tavern. "I sense that we must look onward, my friend."

Helena turned her focus to the window. "I think trouble is brewing outside."

Diana nodded. "Allow me," She marched out of the doorway, silver bracers around her wrists captured the moonlight reflection as she advanced closer to the thief that was untying a few horses at the post. She stood atop the steps in a motionless stance, studying her opponents' colorful attire. "A gypsy," her lips curled as she descend the steps, readying her blade.

"Stand aside, thief. Those mares do not belong to you." Her voice blared.

The young gypsy stared her down with steely eyes. "What is to you, woman." He mocked. "Oh, I see. A defenseless woman searching for a pleasure that man like me can offer?" He smiled with unclean teeth. "Or was it just a fight you was looking for? If so, I'm happy to oblige." He rolled up his fists.

Diana gave a scornful glare. "If you had any idea who you're dealing with." She murmured as she drew out her lasso. She swung it around his torso and pulled it tightly. "I am Diana. Warrior of truth. I will be not defiled by the poison that your foul lips produce."

Helena leaned her body against the door frame and watched the Amazon Princess while eating a piece of freshly bake bread.

Diana pulled the lasso tighter as it dug into the flesh of his arms. She drew closer and used her left boot to kick him to the ground. He tumbled, landing on his back as she stood towering over him, eyes infused with determination. "Avow," she commanded.

He laughed. "Why should I speak to you, confessor?"

"This lasso compels you to confess the truth." Diana answered, holding the end of her rope as it released a faint golden glow. "Where is the camp on the mountain pass where rest of your group is located?"

"Ten miles away from the hillside." He confessed as his eyes became hazy. "You will find red flags tied to tree trunks as you walk the path. Follow the markings, that is the only way you will find the court of lost souls."

"The demon that the villagers speak of... the one that feeds on the blood of the innocents?"

"The beast only hunts at night. She is cunning to her prey."

Diana turned her gaze to Helena. She untied the lasso. "Be gone before I sentence your damn soul to the bowels of Hades."

He quickly arose from the ground and cantered into the shadows. Helena walked down the steps with an impressed look. "Not bad, Diana"

"I have the all information that we need, Helena. The beast hunts only during the night hours. We have to move to quickly. She is bound to feast tonight."

"Then let's make sure she becomes the hunted this time."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

Prince Bruce felt his vision growing watery as flurries engulfed him into a wall of snow and ice. It had been two days of relentless climbing as he traversed through the snowy mountains. Two days since he had abandoned the League of Shadows and taken it upon himself to journey back to Gotham alone. His path was cold and at times almost unbearable. He had slept only once within the forty-eight hour period, taking shelter in a cave large enough to shield him from the snow storm.

His thirst was sated with melted ice he had uncovered, and his hunger was held at bay by the small ration of bread his belt carried. Not a filling meal, but one that would ensure his survival through this snowy wilderness. His training had conditioned his body to the peak of human potential. It was for that reason he now stood at the top of the snowy mountains gazing out at the lands ahead of him.

Wispy clouds above became enriched with fuchsia as they penetrated his hazel eyes beneath the hood of his dark robes. They captured the niveous scenery that surrounded his cloaked garments as he made his way down the snow rocky path. His scabbard covered blade hung from his belt as he paced down between boulders that formed an archway to shield his benumbed body from the bitter winds that lashed across his stiffened flesh.

He squinted his eyes trying to concentrate on his bearings as his wavy thin lips started to feel numb while his warm breath departed from his lungs. With great caution and effort, he made it to the base of the mountain where he discovered a dead log. Despite the chill winds, he felt as though his legs would fall beneath him at any given moment after climbing and walking for over a day now.

He allowed himself sit back and rest on the bumpy surface of the log while his thoughts amassed.

There had to be fine tuning in his father's kingdom and redressing the serious wrongs without alerting the fundamentals of the system. He knew that the system that people followed was broken by corruption, wealth, and injustice.

As a reformer to the ideals of justice, he discovered through his months of training with the League of Shadows that there are ways to improve the system that molded the kingdom, and to rectify its evils, abuses, and errors. Radical change was the only way to spare Gotham from falling to ruin through the works of havoc, defeat and destruction.

Bruce parted his wavy lips and released a frustrated sigh. _"Righteousness has to rise above the foundations of Gotham."_ His gloved hand squeezed tight. "_I will fight the darkest corners of criminality to preserve..."_ He paused and drew out his blade, then rammed his sword into the frozen earth. Lifting his chin and looking to the fading sun that streamed light across the dimming sky, he closed his eyes and breathed in the frosty air. He knew that Gotham's fate and the security of its people were resting in his hands.

In a silent voice he called out to his father. "_Father,"_ he lowered his head. _"I know this isn't the path you would have taken, but Gotham has fallen too far... too deep into decline." A disheartened sigh dispelled from him lips. "Much of it is my own fault for my own insecurities. But I will make it right. Of that I will make certain."_

Bruce felt his heart pumping beneath the layers of his well-defined chest.

_"I sought the meanings to fight injustice and I discovered the truth to be a mad deception by my mentor who sought to use me as an instrument for his destructive ideals. Your kingdom is fading and crumbling each day as it creates new found horrors that plunder the hopes and dreams that you fought for as king. People looked to you for guidance and longing for a better future."_

Bruce shook his head.

_"I cannot do those things as a man. I am flesh and blood. Swords and arrows may pierce my heart, devils may turn my body into a stone... But if I were a symbol, I could become everlasting in the minds of those good people that still believe in worth and righteousness. Ras al Ghul told me that there is no cure for evil."_

He felt a kindling flame burn inside his soul almost like an untamed beast raging to be free from imprisonment. "_Evil breeds when good men do nothing. All it takes is one man to make a difference; to diminish the power that evil thrives through in its puppets that feel no fear against order and justice."_

Bruce darted his eyes open feeling his province taking hold.

He straightened himself up from the ground and fell in deeper thought. _"They told me that there was nothing to fear... On the night of your death, I caught a glimpse of something. My soul has been seeking it ever since. I traveled from the borders of Gotham, and searched in the shadows. There is something out there in the darkness that lurks in the nightmares of men. Something that will hunt in the shadows and will not stop until corruption is bound with the chains of justice... Me."_

He pulled his sword free and sheathed it. Despite his mentor's destructive ideals, the young prince felt there was some wisdom to be found in these words. _"If a symbol rises from the darkness; if blades and spells cannot stop it, then it becomes dread to all evil and corruption that crosses its path. It will become a legend."_

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

Luminescence cast shafts of light over the dark forest as Diana mounted her riding boots through the thick piles of snow. The cold night winds had paused for now allowing her to wear the hood down to her white robe. Her sea-water eyes narrowed down at Helena who was observing the clothed red flags strapped to the bare branches.

"Why do men resort their lives to stealing?" Diana questioned recollecting her thoughts of the gypsy horse thief. "Is it sport to them?"

Helena looked over her shoulder, a puzzled looked was etched across her olive skin. "To some perhaps. In these lands, stealing is the only way to survive. It is a sinful act to the soul." She continued feeling the cloth with her fingertips. "Even good men become victims to unfortunate ordeals."

"Like the victims of the demon we hunt; devoured during a nightly feeding?"

Helena straightened her legs. Her olive green eyes shifted to the rustling trees that surrounded them. Sounds of merriment engulfed her ears, her autumn stained lips formed a straight line. "The Court of Lost Souls is a few miles ahead." She explained pointing an arrow to the backwoods. "We must remain alert at all times." A warning seeped from her lips. "The dwellers of the camp like to entice travelers with fortune, bounty, and lust. Stay sharp princess and say nothing. Leave the talking to me."

Diana felt her nostrils flare. "I am an Amazon warrior. I do not take orders from you, Huntress."

Helena turned quickly and lunged at Diana holding the sharpened end of the arrow to her throat. Diana expertly caught her wrist and twisted with an alarming show of strength causing Helena to gasp and release the arrow. Helena seethed. "This is not your homeland, Diana. Battles are not only won by weapons. You must know your adversary. That is the only way you will prevail this night."

Diana released Helena's wrist and pushed it aside. "I know how to engage in combat, Helena. I was trained by the finest of the Amazon warriors since childhood."

Helena glared at her as she rubbed her wrist. "Amazon warriors. Not unearthly creatures of the supernatural realm that lust for the sweet nectar pumping in those veins." She pointed out. "You have never witnessed the true horrors of mortality. The unfairness that life has cursed many damned souls with as evil enters the minds of noble men and transforms them into monsters."

Diana held her tongue while her eyes assessed. What Helena said was partly true, she did not know the horrors of mortality, but she had seen and faced the most vile and horrific of demons in her life since the Amazons defended Themyscira from both man and beast - some that originated from the underworld itself. But she sought no further quarrel with her friend whose anger she could see rising due to a hidden personal grievance.

Out of animosity, Helena removed a dagger from her boot and whipped it into the brisk air; the blade struck the center of a tree. Diana looked concerned for her friend as she placed her hand gently on the Huntress's shoulder. "Helena, why the sudden display of anger?"

The Italian beauty scowled and displayed an off-look. The chasms of her eyes burned like a candle's flickering flame in the darkness. "Return to your Queendom, make peace with your mother, and enjoy the blessing that your gods bestow you with."

"Helena, I told you that I cannot go back. I must seek out my burdensome quest. I can feel it into my bones that this was the reason I was created. To be a symbol for peace and truth, and to defend the weak and the innocent. This is not a choice I have conceived in vanity, my friend, and I see deep within you that you wish to do the same." In saying those words Diana felt a coldness rub off of Helena's body. "You are concealing a harrowing pain within your bones, Helena."

Helena narrowed her eyes. "You are a confessor, figure it out." She spat.

Diana's tender sea-water eyes gazed mournfully into Helena's heart. "Your parents were not the only victims of that horror," she spoke softly. "Another life was taken that night."

Helena shifted her body and then she gazed at her silver cross. "This cross was not given to me by my mother." She revealed. "My parents were not the only members of my family that were taken by that pale fleshed devil. I had an adopted sister, not much older than myself." She lifted her chin and gazed at the glow from the crescent moon. "Little Luna is what my mother used to call her. She was so beautiful with deep brown eyes and matching locks."

Diana noticed tears streaming down Helena's cheek. "What happened to your sister?"

"On the night my mother and father were killed, Luna and I hid inside a cupboard holding onto each other." A dark look crossed Helena's face with the wet tears still on her cheeks. "We listened to my mother scream her final words. I remember seeing their lifeless bodies through the crack of the door. I told Luna that we would be all right. It was a promise I made... the cadaverous demon found us and one of his masked men took her from my arms and lashed his hand against my skull. I saw only blackness and when I finally awoke all that remained of Luna was this silver cross."

Diana kept her ruby lips clasped shut as she listened to Helena's grim past and pondered it. "You have concealed all this hatred within your soul?" Her lips finally parted. "Finding your sister will be freedom from the sorrow that shrouds over you. That is why you are always restless during your hunts?"

"The memory haunts me every night." Helena answered cloudy. "She had lost much in her life already, before my family took her in. Then to lose it all again... she did not deserve that fate." She lowered her head. "Nor did I..." She whispered. Her leather gloved hand squeezed into a fist. "She deserved her freedom. I've spent years searching in every town for any sign of her. Now the truth burns like a slow blade ripping through the walls of my chest aiming for the depths of my heart. Until the cold touch of eternal winter imprisons the last amount of hope. "

"You told me that hope is all you have to cling too, Helena."

"I did." The Huntress replied grimly. "Each year the bitterness takes a piece away." She moved to the tree and took out the knife. "Each time I look at the full golden moon... a hunter's moon, I realize that time is the enemy in this world. Death is closing in as the mortal soul flickers like a candle in the darkness until it finally goes out."

Helena smirked and released a humorless laugh that made Diana cringe. "That's what mortality represents. A flickering flame that slowly dies out." She prepared her crossbow and moved into the grove of trees. "Let us make haste for the hunt." She called out vanishing into the umbra of trees.

"Helena," Diana returned as she bolted onward. "Do not lose faith that you will be reunited with your sister."

Helena turned slowly. "You have proven to be a genuine friend. I thank heaven for that. Forgive me for doubting you, Diana. Having you with me during this hunt is the only comfort I carry this night."

Diana beamed a slight smile when she heard those words pour out of Helena's mouth. "Should we prevail here, we will journey onward across the sea to seek your lost sister and restore your heart." She promised.

Helena grasped Diana's shapely shoulder. "I accept."

* * *

{Kingdom of Gotham}

Sir Blake and his partner Sir Ross dismounted off their stallions. A guard of the lead them down a long stonewall with a torch light grasped in his shaky hands as his boots sloshed in the murky drainage water.

"A few corpses wash up every season. More cadavers pileup as it becomes colder-homeless sheltering in the basins. We pulled this corpse out to clear the passageway. I swear that we never touched his body..."

Sir Blake nodded as he followed the guard to an enclosed space where a young boy's lifeless body was spread out on the stone. His dark brown eyes looked down at the colorless corpse of a boy that appeared to be only a few years younger than his own age. He froze noticing a smear of blood stretched across the boy's face.

"John?" Sir Ross asked.

"I have beheld this boy before. He is from the St. Swithin's cathedral." Sir Blake answered with an off-look. "A refuge for youth where I teach some to be squires for the seasonal jousting tournaments."

He narrowed his eyes down at the corpse. "His name was James."

Sir Ross shook his head. "Do you assume the cause of death was..."

"No." Blake interrupted staring at the slashes from edges of the mouth to the ears. "It is a Cheshire grin. The murderer performed this torture with a shard of glass or a carving knife." He felt his stomach churn. "This boy bled to death."

"Slaughter?" Sir Ross replied looking at the blood drain from the cheeks of the quivering guard.

"Exsanguination." Blake answered back. "A theatrical death; the amusement of a monster." His gaze grew colder as he studied the lacerations once more before shifting his eyes to the stream noticing a small object floating in the dark water. He quickly moved to the edge and picked up the wet piece of paper.

"Blake, what did you find?" Sir Ross questioned.

Blake took a moment and gazed at the devilish picture on the card. "A playing card."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

The fresh scent of a gorging feast hovering in the brisk air as an encirclement of young dancers whirled their bodies to the flickers of the bonfires. Everyone was dressed in colorful garments and covered with golden chains and jewels. Women were clothed in silk patched dresses and bare feet while expressing a blissful attitude to their bearded lovers.

Diana was crouched down her hooded cloak shaping over her face serve sea-water hues peered at the joyful crowd of gypsy's enjoying a bountiful feast. Helena was leaning her back against the tree observing.

"I do not understand," Diana spoke in a whisper. "Have my eyes become scaled with falsehood or out these dwellers of the camp keepers of joy?"

Helena shook her head. "Gypsies are free spirited people. They travel the world while plunging treasures and creating misfortune to the fools that enter their webs. They are spiders to the common travelers that seek only riches and lust." She sighed. "I assume that they have been falsely deceived. These are not the devils that hold the beast as a captive."

Diana turned around expressing a confused look on her brow. "The man confessed to me that this was the camp."

"At one time this was the Camp of Lost Souls." Helena answered clearly. "Seeing children enjoy their feast show me that this ground we searched for is not a threat."

A young raven haired girl noticed Diana in the bushes and she quickly raced over and introduced herself. "Weary travelers what business do you seek?" she asked.

Diana gave a friendly smile. "My and friend seek a beast that walks like woman. We were told that the demon dwells in your camp?"

The child shook her head. "I know whom you speak of stranger." She turned her head and gazed at the wagon with a torch lighting the wooden steps. "My grandmother Madalina will answer your questions."

Diana nodded. "Thank you."

The child returned a nod and waved Diana and Helena to follow her. Both women walked into the crowd, the men and women of the camp gazed at them for a moment and then returned to their activities of merriment.

The child walked up the steps and knocked on the door. "Grandmother Madalina, two women have questions that need to be answered." She yelled. The door opened and a frail grey haired woman with wrinkles stepped into the light, she wore a silver pendent and moon shaped earrings.

Her silver blue eyes peered down at Diana. "What businesses to you seek to find with an old woman like me, child?" She spoke in an Eastern European accent. "Fortune, visions of the future or healing?"

Diana shook her head. "We hunt a woman that cursed to roam the earth as a beast. She preys on the blood of the children who dwell in the local villages."

Madalina nodded. "What you are seeking is pure evil." She replied. "Come inside and I will tell you what you need to know about the beast that walks like a woman."

"I will remain out here, Diana." Helena spoke as she sat on the grass.

Diana followed Madalina inside the wagon; she gazed at the prisms hanging from the wooden rafters, the crystal ball and glass jars filled with strange liquid. "Are you a sorceress?" she asked in a shaky tone.

The old woman arched an eyebrow. "No." She answered instantly. "Witchcraft is not allowed in this camp. I am a healer and a giver of the fortune. Nothing more." She sat down and faced Diana as she removed her pendent and began to whirl it around a candles flame.

"What you seek is not to be detained by bounds that you carry. No earthy weapon can imprison the beast for it is a demon forged by the shadows."

"How do you know so much about the creature?" Diana asked.

Madalina released an uneasy sigh. "I was there when the creature was born under the blood red moon. My mother and father were leaders of the camp, but a cloaked stranger came seeking followers. My father sensed bad blood running through his veins and ordered the stranger to leave."

A withered look swept across her face. "For years I have tried to keep the secret hidden from my children. I sense that you are pure of heart Diana. I will tell you the real truth behind the curse."

Diana listened carefully.

"The cloaked stranger was a follower of dark magic. His powers for forged from Hell and his friends were creatures from the realms of darkness. After my father refused his offer that stranger stole my youngest sister." She swallowed. "He placed a terrible curse over her body as a message to my father to never underestimate the power of the darkness. My step sister is the beast you seek to destroy."

"I'm sorry, Madalina." Diana spoke gently. "I did not know."

"My step sister can only be set free if she remembers her humanity. I witnessed the curse by the moonlight. I would give anything to set her free."

Diana understood."What is your sister's name?"

"Barbara Ann Minerva, she is only half Romanian. My step mother was from England." She placed her hand onto of Diana's gloved hand. "Heed my warning if she bites your flesh that you become poisoned with the curse. And you will become the slave to the moonlight."

"The gods will protect me, Madalina." Diana assured.

* * *

[Kingdom of Gotham - Royal Castle]

Daylight streamed through the high archway windows of the castle throne room as the kingdom's High Council held court within. Its ten members sat behind a long table below the dais where the empty throne stood in the background, in the darkness; forsaken. At the center of the table sat Councilman Earle. His countenance was reproachful as he gazed upon the Captain of the Gotham Knights: Sir James Gordon, who had just returned from a week long search party outside of the city.

Sir James stood in his armor, helm in his arm, with his head held high betraying no sign of conflict within himself as he stood before the Gotham's interim-rulers. The throne room carried no absence of witnesses, and members of the court. Several heads to noble families and courtiers were seated opposite each side of the room, forming an isle for the Knight Captain to stand. Among them was Baron Falcone. The cruel and capricious noble's eyes never strayed too far from the would-be boy king sitting beside the High Council table, his mother behind him.

Standing against a pillar, a fair distance from the crowd, Lady Rachel watched the baron, and the proceedings with unease. Sir John Blake stood beside her as they listened to Councilman Earle address the Captain of the Knights.

"Knight Captain, it has been weeks since you took a seasoned contingent of our forces to scour the countryside. What is your report?"

The captain released a despondent sigh. "Councilman, we have encountered wild natives, fugitive mages from abroad along with bandits and cutthroats. Several we managed to roundup to the local lords of Bludhaven; few managed to escape. There has been word of a civil war brewing in Metropolis. Lord Luth-"

"Captain, you did not take over a dozen of your best men beyond our borders, at the risk of endangering our treaties, to interfere with foreign matters of crime and state. What news have you have learned of our missing prince?!" Councilman Earle cut in irritably.

Sir James shared a withered look with Alfred, who stood off to the side near a statue of King Patrick Wayne. The captain could not withhold the truth no matter how discouraging it may sound to those present. Seeing the turmoil on the Knight Captain's face, Alfred gave him a weak nod of understanding. Sir James gazed back towards the council.

"No sign of the prince. We conferred with the Lords of Bludhaven and sent search parties south across the river. They reported no passing travelers matching his description to have ventured across in the past four months."

Chatter began to fill the throne room as some of the nobles and courtiers became visibly disquieted while others appeared negligent. The other Council members were not impassive either. It was no secret this news elated those who carried no faith in the Wayne Dynasty after the death of King Thomas, while still troubling the others who cared for its legacy and Gotham's future.

Councilman Earle, the first regain his precision, raised his hand to quiet to the noise. He regarded Sir James again, this time he was grave. "What intelligence did you share with Bludhaven regarding your search?"

"Nothing specific, Councilman. We spun tale of an escaped prisoner from Castle Blackgate that was believed to have made it across the river. Our search fell under pretense of hunting the prisoner down to deliver him to the hands of justice… But rumor has already spread towards the missing prince's disappearance."

The High Council was collectively vexed at this news. Standing far back near the entrance to the foyer, Sir Gallo stood leaning against the doorway. His indigo eyes carefully assessed the small smirk on Lady Maura and Lord Brannen's faces as he gauged their reaction to this news. His master's words repeated in his thoughts as a foreboding mantra. "Patience," he told himself. "There is time."

His attention shifted back to the proceedings as Councilman Fredericks spoke.

"The truth could not be veiled for long, no matter how well we presume to hide it. Perhaps we should extend the sear-"

"Out of the question, councilman." Earle cut him off. "If we send our scouts any further west, we run the risk of endangering our treaty with Civic City, the same with Newark to the north and Metropolis in the south."

"Then what is the alternative? We give up the search for own prince?" Fredericks exclaimed.

"I share your desperation in finding Prince Bruce, Fredericks... but we must be practical and think of Gotham first." Earle dismissed. "With rumor now spreading of our leaderless realm, it will not be long before envoys are sent from our neighbors to assess our vulnerability and assess the risk of conquest."

A clamor of unease swept the entire court at the councilman's words. His gaze landed on Baron Falcone who eyed him narrowly as though waiting to condemn or praise his next choice of words.

Earle sighed. "We must proceed with our preparations..." His eyes drifted to the boy and his mother seated beside the council table. "To name our new prince, and begin a new dynasty within the Kingdom of Gotham."

Alfred lowered his head, crestfallen while Rachel equally despaired.

Dissension threatened to break out as half the room became distressed, even upset at the Councilman's proposal while the others were relieved and thankful. Among the displeased nobles, Baron Falcone sent a death-glare in Councilman Earle's direction before it landed on the boy and his mother; his vicious mind already devising an egregious plan for this triumvirate of obstacles.

"Councilman, I beg your pardon, but I believe you issued my men and I four months to locate the prince! It has only been three!" Sir James protested.

"That has been enough time already Knight Captain, and before the risk of discovery from our neighbors. If we are to effectively lead Gotham from the devastation that brought the collapse of the Roman Empire across the sea, and the dark age surrounding us now, we must move forward as one. Not divided."

To add further weight to his argument, Councilman Earle added. "There will be no further debate on this matter. Gotham has suffered enough through your absence, Knight Captain. The villagers in the Narrows continue to prey upon each other while a madman continues to terrorize the capital!"

Councilman Phillips slammed his fist on the table, drawing everyone attention. "It is true! My own friend Lord Gregory was butchered by this murderer running free who continues to make a fool of your men. Take charge, Knight Captain! Bring this devil to justice!"

Sir James lowered his gaze, feeling chastised despite his reservations to drop the search for their missing prince. How could he argue, even if it wasn't expressly for forbidden to him now? People were being murdered while his efforts to find Prince Bruce yielded not a single lead. He sighed.

"Yes, my lords. I will resume my duties at once. I will not rest until this madman is captured and brought to justice."

The Councilman members were unanimously pleased with his statement, even those that still felt remorse towards the idea of giving up their search for their missing prince. Gotham would need to look towards it future, and right now they felt a sure step forward had been made.

"Very well, Sir James. Confer with your men and continue your search. You are dismissed."

Sir James gave a short bow and timidly turned away, marching towards the doors with his men following.

Councilman Earle released a heavy breath. "Who is next seeking our counsel?" He addressed one of the guards nearby.

"Sir Justin of Camelot and a number of its enjoys, my lord. They seek aid for King Arthur's forces abroad, and for temporary sanctuary for a number of Camelot's refugees fleeing the kingdom in wake of its recent attack."

Earle nodded. "Show them in."

* * *

The cobble stone cathedral was built to be the beacon of sanctuary for the forgotten innocence that hid in the shadows throughout the kingdom. The mighty structure that was designed in honor of the patron saint of Gotham was falling to ruin. It seemed to be a fading relic in the eyes of Sir John Blake as he dismounted off his steed. He lifted his chin to gaze at the high peaked bell towers and the arched windows. Memories, both good and bad, flooded over his troublesome body. He shook his head to clear his wary mind before walking up the stone steps and opening the thick wooden doors.

Sir John entered the doors and peered at the young men and boys that spent their days behind the stone walls. It was a safe haven to shelter them from the bitterness of winter and the plague of disease, but also serving as a fortress to keep them locked inside; protected by the stone carved saints and candle light.

He marched down the dim hallways, passing the orphans and abandoned children. Some of the boys were his pupils for squire lessons; others that roamed the halls and bell towers were unknown faces to his memories. He drew closer to the main chapel and found a hefty broad faced Irishman, with white hair, lighting a few candles.

Presbyter Reilly was an old priest that spent his servitude raising these young men with compassion, love and good morals. He was a notable father to Blake and had dwelled inside this stone fortress for decades after leaving his homeland and receiving his Holy Orders.

"Excuse me, Father," Blake spoke gently. The priest turned around and warmly smiled at the Gotham Knight. "I need to speak with you... a corpse was discovered in the water basin last night. I have reason to believe that the young man was one of the boys that lived here with his younger brother Mark."

Father Reilly's felt blood drain from his cheeks when as he listened to the information. "James," the priest crossed himself and closed his eyes as grief came over him. "God rest his soul…" He whispered. His eyes shifted to a group of boys. "I knew that his choice to leave would be grim, John," he released a deep breath. "The lad left a few seasons back looking for work either at the mills or the docks."

Blake pulled out the playing card from his pocket and showed it to Father Reilly. "This was found near his body." He moved it closer to the candle as the flame started to flicker.

"A gypsy fortune card." The priest warned. "A symbol of devilry." He gazed at the symbol of the jester in the middle. "Families travel through the basin during the hours of nightfall."

"Why?"

"To escape the rack and the lash from the Palace of Justice. Lord Fadan sees them as impure and hopes to end their reign of witchcraft by hunting every one of them down. One by one."

The young Gotham Knight arched his eyebrow. "Those families are innocent. They live good lives and make profit only to put bread on their tables."

"The council of Justice sees them as a threat to the common man, and their laws."

Blake nodded and changed the subject. "James's brother is still here, Father?"

"Mark dwells mostly in the courtyard. I will confide in him about his loss."

"I wish to speak with the boy if that is all right?" Blake requested, stuffing the card into his pocket.

Father Reilly nodded. "You'll find Mark out there."

Sir John gave a returning nod to his old friend before heading outside.

On the steps of the courtyard, Father Reilly watched as Sir John sat with a small dark haired ten year old - Mark.

"I am sorry," The knight said, looking into the boy's teary dark eyes.

Mark somberly nodded, staring straight ahead. "No one wants to be cooped up in here forever."

"Mark if you can give me any information about your brother, I would appreciate your insight."

"Will it help bring justice to the monster who killed him?" The young boy implied.

"It will." Blake answered softly, rubbing Marks darken bangs in a gesture of brotherly love.

"A lot of men have been going to the docks when they're desperate. The Baron is the main employer and in charge of the merchant shipments."

"Falcone?" Blake expressed a serious face. Mark nodded. "What kind of wage will you get from working for him?"

Mark shrugged his shoulders. "More than you can find out in these parts, I guess."

Blake took that into consideration as he arose from the stone bench. "If there is anything you ever need..."

"I just want justice for my brother." Mark interrupted in a shaky tone.

John placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and lowered his gaze. "I promise you that justice will be come." He promised. He glanced at the dimming sun with sure confidence that he would prevail for another sun rise.

* * *

{Umbria, Italy}

The softness of moonlight guided her path through the dark enriched forest as sounds of woodland creatures echoed through the brisk air. Diana's protective gaze scanned the area as Helena was crouched down on a thick branch with her crossbow in position to fire when their prey became visible.

Diana's body stiffened as a presence entered the air. She quickly drew her sword and walked a few steps ahead, with her ocean blue eyes burning and lips formed into a tight line. She paused as the scuffling of leaves made her freeze she prepared moved into a battle-stance – sword ready.

Instead of a wild beast emerging from the shadows, a little girl wearing, a white gown, darted through the darkness with a stain of blood smeared on her chest; discomfort was etched on her olive skin features.

Diana twisted and looked to Helena. "Helena, hold your fire." She raced quickly to the child and knelt down to her level. "It's okay, little sister, I am not going to hurt you."

The girl gasped for air. "My sister is dead!" She wailed, digging her head into Diana's chest.

The Amazon Princess gently stroked the girl's long ebony hair. She arrived too late to prevent Minerva from taking another innocent life, but she could still save the child in her arms. "It is going to be alright little sister for you are safe from the horrors that your eyes beheld."

The Huntress jumped down from her perch, letting her knees absorb the shock of the earth beneath her riding boots. "The child can lead us to the beast."

Diana shook her head. "No, Helena. This little sister has endured enough horror this night. She needs to be brought to the village. I need you to take her."

Helena shook her head. "I am a hunter, not a guardian." She growled.

"You told me that you watched your adopted sister be taken away from the cold hands of men, and how it devastated your soul, Helena. This child that you see is no different than yourself or Little Luna. She needs a protector right now."

Helena narrowed her eyes. "I will take her to the village." She shrugged in concession as she loaded more arrows into her crossbow.

Diana was tender as she gazed into the little girl's dark brown eyes and wiped the tears from her frozen cheeks. "It is going to be all right, dear one," she expressed an assuring smile. "My dear friend, Helena, is going to bring you back home where you will be safe. I will fight the creature that took your sister's life."

The girl wrapped her arms around Diana and hugged her tightly. She pulled away and walked to Helena's side.

Helena drew closer towards Diana. "Be careful, princess. Whatever this creature is, the forest is her hunting ground – her domain. She would know it better than passing travelers."

Diana smiled. "I have no fear. The gods will protect me this night."

"If you prevail, we will see each other at dawn's early light." Helena said before scooping up the child in her arms and placing her cloak over the girls shivering body. Diana watched as she vanished into the grove of trees.

The Amazon pulled on her white hood and marched through the brush of snow capped evergreens as her feet crunched into the snow. Her robe would provide camouflage with the white frosted trees. She lifted her chin to the full moon and silently prayed.

"Hera… give me strength."

She raced through the thickness of the forest, relying on her Amazonian speed and agility. She'd been searching the nighttime forests for what felt like, jumping over sharp rocks and rotting logs until a foul stench of decay caught her attention. She pulled off her hood of her cloak and walked gingerly to an open area near an encirclement of trees. Her gaze fell to the sight of a girl's body lying in the snow with spatters of blood formed around her lifeless shell.

The child's eyes were wide and lifeless; her terror and pain frozen on her youthful face.

Diana fell to her knees and slammed her fist into the frozen ground. Her ocean blue eyes were infused with fury as she closed the child's glossy eyes with her hand and gently placed the bone chilling hands over the corpse's abdomen; a gesture of grievance that she was taught by her mother and Amazon sisters.

"Hera, why have the Fates been so cruel to this innocent? This little sister did not deserve to die. Her soul was too young to be taken away from this mortal world. I pray that you will bring her peace as she rests forever in the afterlife."

Diana closed her eyes, a single tear escaped and streamed down her cheek. "Rest little sister, for your journey has ended."

An ear-piercing inhuman roar broke through the silence. Diana straightened up from the ground, trying to regain her focus from the dead child in front of her. Her gaze traveled high up towards the skies where the first signs of dawn began to show.

She listened to the fierce growl coming from shadows and quickly raced to the grove of trees. Her sword hung from her belt as she jumped onto a thick branch and then onto another with lightning speed. Her robes fortunately didn't hamper her movements. Her eyes locked onto the creature; a golden furred monster with reddish hair and dark spots covering the pelt along her entire body.

Diana backed away. She observed the human-sized beast that resembled some of the large jungle cats that Athena blessed the Amazons with on her island. A cheetah. The Amazon surveyed her opponent's strengths; a long tail and sharp claws on both her hands and feet. It was then the she noticed her quarry was not alone.

Cheetah carried an unconscious male with her; a local farmer. The feline twisted the neck of her victim and sunk her fangs into his throat - tearing apart tissue in a spray of blood before she sniffed the air.

Diana grew enraged at the sight.

Cheetah's fur tensed as a threatening growl escaped from her mouth. Without warning, a golden rope grappled her left ankle and tossed her into the air as she bellowed in distress. Her brown eyes widened as they gazed at a dark haired woman standing on a log, dressed in white garments with a fist ready to strike.

Diana rammed her fist into Cheetah's jaw.

The cursed woman crashed to the ground with a thud, hissing in a surprising sense of pain. She'd crossed and killed many since she became the Cheetah; few of which managed to put up a fair fight however none managed to inflict this level of pain on her. Whoever her attacker was, her strength was immense enough to leave the feline dazed.

Cheetah met the eyes of the Amazon princess who jumped high into the air, ready to bring her elbow down on her throat.

Cheetah regained leverage with her legs and jumped into the air and landed on all fours; her tail swayed as she prepared her attack. She opened her mouth and spoke in an English accent. "I can smell the blood pumping through your veins." She snarled, her brown eyes while her moon-golden eyes glared at Diana with flames of hunger.

Diana landed on the soles of her boots and drew her sword.

The area began to grow brighter as dawn continued to encroach.

"I can hear your heart beat, prey." Cheetah paused. "Strange… most of my victim's hearts beat to a rhythm of fear that you can almost dance too... but yours is calm as the evening wind."

Diana showed no fear, nor distraction. "I do not fear monsters."

Cheetah released a chuckle of malignity. She drew out her claws and dug them deep into the bark of a dead log. "Everyone fears death," she spitefully. "All my prey fear me. I am death when their blood runs cold."

"You're not death. You're a cursed soul that belongs in the pits of Tartarus. I pity your soul, for you were once a mortal that was deceived by evil falsehoods, Minerva."

Cheetah snarled at the use of her true name and charged at Diana, slashing her claws. Diana lost her sword but crossed her arms allowing her silver bracelets beneath her robe to protect her from the deadly attack. The monster grabbed Diana's wrist and twisted her arm. The Amazon gasped at the feline's show of speed and strength, recalling Madalina's words on the subject.

Cheetah smiled evilly, her visible canine's still stained with the farmer's blood. "I always cherish the screams of my prey as their bones twist. Suffering - a calming a medley to listen to in the shadows of the evening moon."

Diana tried to twist her way out to execute a high kick, but Cheetah wouldn't relent her hold. For a moment, the two grappled in a test of strength; Diana's defiant yells sparred with the Cheetah's growls in the wind until the Amazon slowly began to overpower her opponent. She wrenched her arm free, but Cheetah's claws were tangled in the sleeve of her cloak which was pulled off her body in the struggle.

Diana stood tall and imposing in her white dress, fists held in front as she struck the feline in the stomach with a side kick before leveling her with a punch across the face. Cheetah staggered and shrieked in both pain and rage. She lashed out wildly with her claws, forcing the princess to tumble to the ground.

Not missing a beat, Diana reacted quickly before her opponent could stomp onto her chest. She reeled herself up from the ground only to face claws lashing towards her face. She backed into a tree and then jumped before the clawed hand could slice her throat. The Amazon Princess flew over Cheetah and whipped her lasso around the feline's waist, pulling her closer until she forcefully kicked her opponent in the stomach, then pushed her to the ground.

Cheetah prepared to ram her full weight into Diana until the princess pulled her hair and kneed her in the jaw. Cheetah fell onto her back gasping for air as Diana's boot now rested on her throat.

"Submit." Diana declared with the tip of her blade pointing down against the Cheetah's face.

The feline snickered. "Fool. You cannot tame me." She lashed her claws at Diana's legs, then jumped into the air and did spin kicked Diana's chest.

Diana lost her balance as she tasted blood running down the walls of her throat. She lifted her sword to shoulder level, her blood dripped onto her bottom lip. "I will not taste defeat this night, demon." She roared, staring Cheetah down with her piercing blue eyes. "I have fought monsters from the realm of Tartarus before. You prove no different from them."

Cheetah let out a fierce roar as bloodlust pulsed through her veins. She was ready to go for the kill; a painless attack that would break Diana's neck and kill her in seconds. "You don't know me, warrior. Who are you to judge me!?"

"I am Diana; Princess of the Amazons." She circled her foe with a discerning gaze. "I know your name was Barbara Minerva, and that you brought this curse upon yourself! Forsaking your own sister and mortality so that you could prey on the innocent!" Diana screamed as Cheetah's eyes widened; alarmed at the intensity of the Amazon's blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into her soul.

"Innocent blood is pure for the taste, also the easiest to spill." Cheetah wheezed out.

Diana advanced on Cheetah with full force, sending the creature into a tree. She kicked her in the stomach then threw an elbow into her side before twisting her left arm. She heard a faint whimper from the feline's throat.

"The only blood you will taste this morning is your own." Diana growled as she hit Cheetah with an upper cut to the chin. She watched the hunter of children stumble backwards then crash into an unconscious state. "Justice was served, Minerva. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* * *

Diana wiped the blood off her lip and inhaled a breath of victory. She narrowed her eyes down and watched as a mystic transformation happened before her. The golden fur had disappeared; flesh and the face became the appearance of a beautiful red-haired woman.

The Amazon lifted her chin and gazed up at the grey clouds covering the full moon. "When the moonlight goes, the woman appears and when the moonlight shines, the beast appears." She reflected. She quickly picked up her hooded cloak and covered Minerva's body as a sign of humility towards the cursed woman. "You're a slave to the moonlight."

Minerva's eyes darted opened with a sharp gasp of air. She looked at Diana. "Who are you?" she demanded in an English tone, not remembering their fight.

"My name is Diana."

"Diana, what are you doing here in my company? Did I change into the Cheetah?" There was fear in the pupils of her eyes as thoughts and memories suddenly struck her. She closed her eyes as a shroud of remorse covered her. "I killed all those children..." Her brown eyes widened. "I am murderer."

Diana shook her head. "The Cheetah killed those children. I do not believe you are both one and the same."

"I am not a woman anymore, Diana. I am a shade of what humanity I have left." She grabbed Diana's wrist. "Leave me in peace. This is the life that I must lead. I cannot face the villagers."

"You have a step-sister that has been trying to free you from this curse. She still loves you."

Minerva shook her head. "And I love her." She arose and threw the cloak to the ground, standing bare. "You must go back to the clearing and leave me with my eternal guilt; for this curse will never be broken."

Diana's eyes grew hard at the implication; her eyes instinctively went to her own sword sheathed at her side. Her Amazonian upbringing compelled her to slay the accursed woman dead so that she may never harm another innocent soul, even if it were against her own self-control… But Diana could not bring herself to act towards it.

"Then you must leave, Minerva; far from the reach of innocent folk. Should I hear whispers of your similar activities again… I will come back for you." She let her threat hang in the air for Minerva to grasp its understanding.

Minerva smirked somewhat unnervingly, but nodded her consent. "I have no doubt of that. I will leave… There is nothing more for me here."

"I'm sorry." Diana replied gently.

"Fight for your life Diana." Minerva gazed at the stormy clouds veiling the moon in the morning sky. "Cause you may find yourself one day looking at the moonlight and wishing that you lived."

In saying those words she vanished through the trees, leaving Diana gazing at the skies with a remorseful stare.

She lifted her cloak from the ground and turned her gaze to the direction of the clearing. Her task of restoring justice and securing the safety of this land was completed, and Minerva was no longer a threat to the neighboring villages for she may have yet regained her mortality.

"The night will end, and the dawn will prevail."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

The cold comfort of nightfall covered the gloomy evergreen forests where Bruce sat in perpetual silence near its edge; in front of a small campfire he'd created, veiled from unwanted eyes by thick bushes surrounding him. His black hood was lowered allowing his growing dark hair and beard to breathe for the first time in days. His weapons and utility belt were beside him, along with a small water-skin, a half-eaten fish he'd caught, and a morsel of bread he'd saved.

It had been a total of four days since he made it clear of the mountains and while the wandering prince was relieved to be away from the heavy snow, his way of travel left a bitter exhaustion within him. His legs were numb from carrying him across mountains of rock and snow, followed by cold waters and grasslands until he found himself upon more favorable ground.

These forests had not been brutally touched by winter's effect, despite the snow pasted to the tree branches above him. However comfortable a dry ground felt beneath him, Bruce's bitterness stemmed not from his exhaustion but towards his unfamiliar surroundings. He had not too often set foot outside of Gotham in his childhood, most especially through adolescence, but he studied its geography - and that of its neighboring cities and kingdoms - enough to know that he was lost out here.

The thought of being pursued by Ras al Ghul and the Shadows had not escaped his thoughts, despite having not seen another living soul since his escape from their fortress. Bruce soon wondered if this was what his former mentor meant when he implied how lost he would be if he had been free to wander under the shape of a bat?

The prince shrugged as he leaned his head back against the tree he was sitting back against. The farthest he'd traveled from Gotham in his lifetime was towards the city of Calvin in the north and Metropolis in the south when he was aged five years. He had never gone further west and for all he could discern, he was on the opposite side of the country - which would complicate the remainder of his journey and the time he had to get back home.

Three weeks, he deduced. That was the amount time he had left to make it home before the High Council placed another upon the throne, and jeopardize his plans of saving his kingdom. That thought alone kept him moving days at a time without rest, but he was now beginning to feel it would be for naught because he had no idea how far he was from home.

He let his hazel eyes search out the glimmering stars above him as if they alone could show him the way.

"Where am I?" He whispered.

His unanswered thought lingered in the air, until the silence was disturbed by a shuffling noise in the distance. Bruce was immediately alert as he snuffed out the flames to his campfire with a handful of soil. He leaned far back into the shadows as he could; listening intently. The moonlight bore down upon the vicinity, casting a glow which was luminous enough for him to see what lurked outside his campsite. His eyes narrowed at the clip-clop sound of horse hooves drawing near. His hands instinctively reached for his sword; grasping the hilt as he took notice of two male shapes marching alongside a single horse bearing a considerable amount of weight - baggage.

Their silhouettes were distinguishable enough for Bruce to notice sheathed swords at their backs along with bows and arrow quivers. A sense of foreboding briefly undertook the prince at the thought that the League of Shadows had finally caught up to him, but upon closer observation of their mussy-like movements, he discerned they weren't out here searching for him. Chancing a glance at his surroundings, Bruce was certain the Shadows' assassins and trackers would have been more furtive in their approach. His sense of safety however was anything but guaranteed as he listened to their raucous banter.

They spoke in a foreign tongue, but Bruce understood it well after months of studying with Ras al Ghul.

"A fine haul we pulled in, Tenzin. That caravan will keep our pockets full for months!"

"I wish you hadn't burned it. We could've used the extra set a legs to lug it all away. My feet are numb!"

"I had to cover our tracks; which is why we're off the main road, and those guards and merchants are pissing blood from their throats."

A boisterous laughter erupted from both men at that grim comment.

Bruce narrowed his eyes into tight angry slits. "Bandits," he thought disdainfully. Their conversation and baggage of spoils could only imply as much, but to Bruce they seemed no different from the greedy swine that attacked his family the night of their deaths. The haughty laughter, the arrogant gloating, the chinking of stolen jewelry… it brought forward unwanted memories that he had tried to submerge in the darkest depths of his mind for what felt like months now. He mentally chided himself for feeling so forlorn; there would be no forgetting. Ever. Not when people such as this existed in the world.

As his mind conjured a number of options for him to take, he resolved for now to listen in on their chatter to perhaps discern their destination which would give him a clearer understanding of his current location and how far it was to the nearest town or settlement. Picking up his sword and his belt, Bruce secured them to his person then drew up his hood; covering his face in shadow. Slow and methodically, he began to follow them from the shadows of the forests - his eyes never leaving them - assessing, while at the same time, minding his surroundings.

"We should rest for the night, Ratu. Would be harder should we be set upon at midday carrying this plundered weight."

"No rest until we're far beyond Rai's empire."

"The Sindh do not rule way out here. There's no better time to rest… and my legs are stiff."

Bruce paused in the shrubs between two oak trees; his mind already contemplating the clues he had just heard. He thought back to his childhood tutoring. None of the names he'd just heard could be identified with his country… yet they were familiar during his time with the Shadows. The thought alone and its implication left him confused.

"We are not stopping, _harami_!" Ratu cursed. Another league and we'll reach the village by tomorrow afternoon."

"Carrying all this weight? This trotter will drop by the—"

The bandit called Ratu suddenly halted and grabbed his ally by the shoulder. "Silence! Listen!" Both men had come to a stop. Tenzin pulled the reigns to their mare, bringing it to a halt alongside them. The mare sputtered and neighed in protest at the heavy burden it carried.

Bruce was puzzled by their sudden pause and for a moment he anticipated them having discovered his presence shadowing them. He breathed calmly despite his heartbeat accelerating in its pace. His hand tightly gripped the hilt of his sword while his eyes never wavered from the men standing no more than twenty feet from him. For a moment, nothing could be heard in the desolate forests; not even the sound of crickets nor the whisper of the wind. What came in its place was the clicking noise of encroaching steeds beneath the rustling of wheels upon rock.

"You hear that?" Ratu whispered.

"Bless my ears. Sounds like a wagon along the road. I'm sure of it!"

"Lower your voice, imbecile. It could be Rai's scouts." Ratu drew his bow and an arrow in anticipation.

"Far out here?! No. I'd wager distant travelers. It has to be." Tenzin released the reigns to the mare and began to tie them around a tree.

"What are you doing?" Ratu hissed.

"Let us away and take a look."

Dread filled Bruce's gut as he watched the two bandits draw arms and scurry towards the edge of the forests. Their intentions were not lost on the young prince after listening to their banter, gauging their characters, and learning of their past misdeeds. Taking a conscious step forward, Bruce peered at the horse they left bound to the tree - the glittering gold coins and sparkling gems inside the sacks hanging off its back - and then continued following them. Blood would be shed this night, and lives would be ruined if not lost if he stood by and did nothing.

Silent as a shadow, Bruce crept between the trees and the shrubs following them. He timed the sound of his movements, with their own, to cover his approach. Bruce held no belief in destiny, nor kinship with nature, but his composure was challenged the moment he heard a faint shriek in the skies. He froze, a familiar chill gripping him in wake of that sound and the memories brought with it. He pressed himself back against a tree and closed his eyes tightly. A look of discomfort etched across his shadowed features while far ahead, the bandits twisted and searched for the source of that dreadful noise.

"What was that?" Tenzin whispered harshly.

"Cursed bats… They won't bother. Move on."

Bruce listened to their shuffling steps continue upon their trek before he summoned the courage to open his eyes and gaze up at the moonlight shining into the forests, and the haunting silhouette of a half-dozen bats circling the skies above him. The largest of the bunch eased into a slow flap while the others scurried away. Its wings stretched wide and full, creating an imposing sight with the full moon aglow behind it. Despite the fear that gripped him, Bruce now felt awed… venerated… determined.

"To conquer fear… you must become it... Master it! Only then can you strike it within others." He reflected on his training. His posture slowly shifted to resolve as he turned back and continued after his quarries.

Ratu and Tenzin stood at the edge of the forests behind two trees; one armed with a bow and arrow while the other carried a nagato sword. Both men were neither friends nor comrades having come from different countries and trades. Yet what they both shared a passion for was violence and luxury - something they had partaken and stolen in great quantity weeks past, but like all thieves burning for the touch of wealth and spoils, they could not ignore a passing opportunity. They would not.

Both men had been a part of a larger group of a half-dozen outlaws who were slain in a recent theft. Their deaths were not mourned but appreciated in the promise of a larger sum divided among those still living. Now their greedy eyes were set upon a covered wagon slowly being pulled down the road by two horses with a cloaked rider astride one of them.

"What can you see?" Ratu whispered aloud. The darkness of the gloomy morning provided insufficient clarity.

"A wagon drawn by two steeds, only one carries a rider aloft."

"Guards? Hounds?"

"None. The wagon is concealed by tarp."

"Could be anything inside…"

"Nay. Distant travelers as I said." Tenzin grinned unnervingly. "Could be carrying some fine wenches aboard…"

"This close to the mountains?" Ratu shook his head. "Either missionaries, withered old monks, or an envoy sent by them to procure supplies."

"It is of no matter. We need that wagon. We won't reach the village by midday and without suspicious eye drawn to our spoils."

Ratu required little convincing as he watched the trotting wagon near their perch. "Let's be quick then. Leave no survivors." Both bandits nodded their mutual compliance; both assured by the sadistic smiles they shared as they gripped their weapons and waited.

"Hold…" Ratu spoke, his left hand wrapped around his bow and his right index finger fluttering across the string of his bow with an arrow in place. Tenzin waited with baited breath. The wagon rode into a slow trot across from them – close enough for them to discern the shape of the rider and the sword at his waist. "It is no monk…" Tenzin hissed.

As though sensing the unseen danger surrounding them, the horses pulling the wagon jolted and whined a cry of warning.

"NOW!" Ratu yelled, releasing an arrow on the unsuspecting rider. One fell shot propelled the rider from his seat and down upon the cold rocky path amidst neighs of protest from his horses. The two bandits stormed the wagon as the rider staggered to his feet, reaching for his weapon with an arrow protruding from his arm. He was older than his attackers but it would not deter him from defending himself.

From inside the wagon could be heard muffled cries, drowned out by the noise of impending combat. The sounds were familiar to Tenzin as he moved to inspect the wagon's contents only to be surprised by a second shape emerging from within. His blade collided with the broadsword of a boy no older than twelve years of age. Tenzin barked with laughter. "What will you do with that little blade, boy? Shave my arse?"

The boy answered by swiping at Tenzin's leg, scratching him profusely.

"_Haram_i!" Tenzin backhanded the boy ruthlessly to the ground.

"Sonam!" The wounded rider cried out in fatherly concern, locked in a struggle with Ratu. The distraction was enough for the faster and experienced thief to drive his head against the rider's skull. It was quickly followed by a winding knee to the gut and a lash to the side.

"Stay down, old fool!" The thief spat.

Tenzin approached the wagon and ripped open the tarpaulin. His cold and aggressive eyes grew perverse and wicked at the sight of a middle-aged woman gripping a frightened young girl to her bosom. Mother and daughter it would seem. He did not care as his eyes took in the baskets of meat, fish, water-skins and warm blankets. "Travelers indeed." He licked his lips fiendishly as he stared at the attractive woman and her child.

"Gephel!" The woman cried.

"Do not bother screaming. None can hear you out here." The bandit taunted them.

Ratu forced the older man, Gephel, to his knees before the boy as Tenzin forced him up. "Let's finish them, Tenzin, and be done here."

"What about the women? It's still a long trip. We could use the company…" He grinned suggestively.

The old man and his son struggled in desperation after hearing their attacker's words - consumed with anger and a fear as they listened to their family members begin to weep from within the wagon. "Do not do this! Please! Take the wagon, the food, everything! Just leave my family be!" Gephel entreated.

The bandits laughed cruelly, oblivious to the haunting darkness of the forests close-by where two vengeful eyes narrowed into tight slits.

"Did I not say no crying for help?" Ratu struck the man with his naked fist. "Do not worry, old one… Wife and daughter will be kept nice and warm at night… until they are sold when they have no further use to us…"

"NO!" The woman lunged forward with a knife but was effortlessly caught by the Tenzin and thrown back inside.

"NO! Mercy! Please!" The boy cried.

"Enough of this! Tenzin - finish them!"

Tenzin raised his nagato sword above Gephel's head who closed his eyes, preparing for the end while his family screamed.

A sharp throwing-star flew from the darkness and struck Tenzin's sword hand, disarming him before he could behead the innocent man. The bandit exclaimed sharply in surprise, before another throwing-star flew and struck his open palm, piercing his skin hard enough to draw blood. "Arrghhh!"

"What happened?!" Ratu shouted, bewildered by Tenzin's sudden calamity.

"S-Something attacked me!" He pulled the projectile from his hand and held it to the moonlight.

* * *

"Who is out there!?" Ratu cried. "Show yourself, coward!"

A deathly silence filled the area as victims and oppressors listened with baited breath…until the noise of screeching bats filled the skies. "…T-That noise…" Tenzin whispered.

"…Demons." The old man spoke suddenly. His comment was not intentional, but it succeeded in rattling the bandits as they listened to a swooshing sound on the wind.

"Rubbish, old fool!" Ratu chided as he held his blade to the boy's throat to keep him grounded and his family restrained. He nodded to Tenzin. "See what it is. Hurry!"

The wounded bandit was shaken - perturbed by the ominous aura that seemed to have engulfed the area. Retrieving his sword with shaky fingers, Tenzin moved towards the forests. Both bandits knew what was at risk aside from their own lives. Their entire stolen horde of wealth was left unguarded within and if they remained negligent for long, it would be plucked from beneath their noses. Their greed and violence had been responsible for the deaths of many and they would not see the loss of their labors.

As the moonlight shifted through the snowy trees, Tenzin took notice of a dark shape gleaming against the backdrop. He shrieked in surprise as he pointed ahead. "There! Between the trees!"

Ratu fired two arrows in the direction of the shape. They watched as the arrows tore through and disappeared… Tenzin swallowed his nerve and proceeded forward… A harsh wind blew through, and the black shroud blew with it. A decoy projection. The bandit moved between the trees, still uneasy while Ratu held the frightened family hostage. Shuffling through the trees, the bandit felt disquieted to find the shroud had disappeared. He released a sardonic chuckle.

"Tenzin, what was it?"

"Coward must have fled."

A soft screech came from above… Tenzin felt a chill run through his body. It was cold, it was foreboding… He looked up to see a number of bats glaring at him. Their eyes haunted him, enraptured him in a sense of harrow vulnerability…until the darkness burst from behind him, wrapping him in a blinding black shadow before it pulled him screaming into the bushes. The bats screeched and flapped while everyone else became alert.

"Tenzin!" Ratu yelled in horror.

"Let us go! It's a demon! It will kill us all!" Gephel shook from his kneeled position.

"Shut it—" Ratu raised his blade to finish what Tenzin could not… before he was thrown from his position by an unsuspecting weight, crashing into him from his left side. Showing resilience, the bandit rolled onto his heels and held his bow aimed, only to find the string to have been cut by something sharp. He was baffled. "How could…" He discarded his now useless weapon as he watched the family rushing for their wagon. A swoosh in the wind, if anything, put him further on edge. Thinking quickly, the bandit lunged forward and grabbed a hold of the boy.

"Let me go!"

"Sonam! Let my son go!"

Ratu held a knife below the boy's throat. "Stay back, old fool!" He pressed the blade against the boy's flesh roughly.

"Sonam! Please let him go!" The boy's mother and sister had climbed out of the wagon and watched helplessly as he was pulled away from them.

"I said stay back!" The bandit hissed. His eyes flickered across his surroundings, searching for the dark menace lurking in the shadows. "Whoever you are… Whatever you are! Stand down or this boy dies!" No response as everyone waited fearfully for the mysterious presence to make itself known. Ratu swallowed, feeling little reassurance despite standing near the open – away from the forests where Tenzin disappeared. He held the frightened boy close as his shield as he contemplated his options. He could not see what manner of foe he was up against.

If Tenzin was killed, then he was vastly outnumbered. He couldn't take the wagon alone and escape with the spoils under these circumstances. The only option remaining was to kill all those in his way and make haste with the horse currently waiting in the forests. "I am taking my horse and if you try to stop me – the boy dies with the rest of his family!"

"I don't think so…" A heavy gravel voice growled on the winds surrounding him. It was chilling and grim - the power and the determination behind it were just as frightening. It sounded like a demonic force sprung from the underworld… it was not human. It could not be. Ratu found himself silently trembling, a cold sweat matting his brow as he jumped in the direction he believed the voice to have come from along the road.

"You will not harm another innocent life!" The voice came from the forest this time. It seemed to permeate and carry from all corners like an invisible specter. It was everywhere…and it was nowhere. It disconcerted not only the bandit, but the travelers as well.

"What are you?!" The bandit by now was aghast.

"I am the night…" The voice crept up the bandit's back. Ratu spun around, still holding the boy close, and lashed at empty air. He gasped, backing up slowly towards the rear of the wagon. "I am vengeance!" He was struck suddenly across the jaw and found himself being propelled backward onto the ground, losing his grip on the boy who wasted no time in rushing over towards his family.

"Sonam! You are safe!" The family rejoiced.

"Where are you?!" Ratu yelled, by now frustrated as he pulled himself to his feet. "Show yourself, demon!"

"Here…" It rasped from directly behind him.

The bandit spun and aimed his knife but it struck only the metallic edge of armor. A scalloped gauntlet. His eyes went wide at the sight of a tall and imposing shape clad in dark robes and armor. No sight of flesh was visible but through the glistening moonlight could be seen two burning white orbs with a fiery hazel at the center. The same dark and determining voice bellowed from its sightless mouth. "And tonight – I am your worst nightmare."

An unforgiving fist smashed against the bandit's face, followed quickly by a barrage of kicks, angry fists and elbows that left Ratu dazed and reeling between clarity and slumber. He tried to fight back until a final uppercut to the jaw sent him crashing to the ground on his back. He could taste blood on his busted lip and a paralyzing pain in his body as he struggled to sit up. His clouded sight could still make out the dark shape encroaching on him methodically. He felt certain death was reaching out for him now, and he never felt more helpless. "D-Don't kill me…"

"You will face justice for what you have done…" The same gloved fist bashed against his head, sending him to into slumber, "but not by me…"

Bruce raised himself to stand tall over his defeated foe. He removed the make-shift mask he wore and let the cool morning air brush across his sudatory features. He wiped away the ash he had smeared around his eyes to conceal his flesh as he wore the mask and hood. Theatricality and deception were one of many weapons he'd received through his training, along with venterloqui. Throwing his voice across multiple points to confuse, distract, and frighten his enemies was not difficult… It was controlling his anger.

Shrugging off the adrenaline from the fight, he pulled Ratu's unconscious form into the forests where his ally also lay.

Once Bruce had seen what these thieves intended to do, seeing the striking similarity to his own past experiences… With those memories came that all too familiar rage, deep within his bones, that ached to be unleashed on men such as these that had robbed him of all, and caused him much grief in his life… The feeling slowly washed away along with contemptuous thoughts of the bitter and undisciplined man he once stood; but no longer. This was not about him anymore…

He could no longer afford to be selfish and reckless with his own pain. He'd been trained to be a perfect killer with a body conditioned to the peak of human potential. He would not let arrogance nor malice rule him as it once threatened to. Seeing his two defeated targets bound tightly against a tree, Bruce felt satisfied in not only stopping their plot, but saving innocent lives without a single loss among them…

'The family.' Bruce's head jerked in the direction of the wagon and could see them preparing to depart.

He needed answers… He spared a glance at the bound thieves.

He needed honest answers.

* * *

With his family safe, Gephel wasted no further time in seeing them back into the wagon so that they may continue on their journey, and out of harm's way.

"Gephel, are you all right?" His wife asked once she noticed his arrow wound.

"I will be fine, Hariti." He looked at his daughter in concern. "Choden?" The girl nodded briskly, still unsettled by everything they just experienced and witnessed.

"What was that creature father? Where did it go?" Sonam asked. Of his family members he was the most amazed rather than horrified of what transpired.

"I do not know my son, but we must not linger t—"

"Gephel!" Hariti cried, pointing behind him.

He spun about and was taken by horrific surprise to see, what he could only assume to be, the creature that had bested and slain the brigands who attacked him and his family. Had it returned to finish its work? He could only dare to hope not as he stood in front of his frightened family with his arms held out, shielding them from harm.

He whispered beneath his breath a solemn prayer, before beseeching the shape itself. "Please… Do not harm my family."

The shape stepped forward close enough for his human-shape to be perceived. He wore a hooded black cloak that obscured the top of his face in shadow, but his mouth and jaw were visible enough to suggest he was a man… but clearly no common one as they noticed his armor.

"I don't intend to…" His voice was not that of a common man either. It was rough, heavy as a raging storm brewing. "I have questions…"

Gephel glanced at his family members over his shoulder, who exchanged nervous glances with each other.

"Where am I?!" The shape demanded, waiting for no show of compliance.

"I-I do not understand?" Gephel muttered.

"How far is the road to Gotham from here?"

The family was now more confused rather than frightened. It was clear that whoever this… man was, he was lost out here and happened upon their plight just in time to save them. Though wary they felt towards him, they felt obligated to answer his questions if it meant assuring their own safety.

"Gotham? I do not—" Gaphel bit his tongue, realizing his redundant response. He could imagine it was less than appreciated. He sighed as he searched for a proper opening. The name of "Gotham" was not unfamiliar, but neither was it relative. "You are a stranger to these parts?" He received no response, so he then chose to continue. "Gotham is oceans away, dark warrior. You stand near the edge of the Himalayan Mountains, close to Lho Mon."

Gaphel hoped his reply was helpful. He could see the barest hint of surprise on the man's face as his lips faintly parted. His head lowered briefly as he seemed to be debating with himself.

"Impossible…" The words escaped through his lips in exasperation as he paced. 'Such a distance would require a long journey I would have remembered…' He paused in his thoughts with rapt confusion while searching for a feasible answer to his situation.

He directed his gaze back to the curious family. "What is this day? Month and date."

"It is the twenty-second day of _Falgun_."

"…_Falgun_… _Novem_." He contemplated. "November? Impossible!" His gaze burned with denial. "I came to these mountains many months past - nearly a year - and it was close to October's end."

"Time… moves differently in these mountains, warrior. However long you believe yourself to have been here, the time has been much shorter in the outside world." Gephel explained.

The dark warrior stared unflinchingly towards him with heavy scrutiny, assessing for any hint of deception in his words. Gephel was uneasy; he could not imagine how this news would affect this man. He prayed he was not capricious. After a tense silence, the warrior breathed deep and exhaled.

"Where is the nearest port that may sail me to Gotham?

"Gujarat. Head to the south-west, may you find what it is you seek there." Gephel offered, his tone filled with a semblance of gratitude now, believing whoever this man was, he meant no danger to his family.  
The warrior glanced over his shoulder. "You are heading to a village?"

Gephel and his now visibly calm family nodded.

"Send whatever authority resides there to apprehend those two." He pointed his fingers in the direction of the forests. Gaphel and his family were amazed to see both their attackers were alive yet bound unconscious.

"Gratitude to you, warrior, for saving my—" Gephel and his family were alarmed to see the stranger had disappeared.

"He's gone…" Choden remarked in astonishment.

"How…" Hariti whispered.

"He must truly be a creature of the night." Sonam said, in awe.

At the rear of the forest, a lone hooded rider shoves off a bag of forgotten spoils from his new saddle, mounts his steed before kicking its sides into a full gallop into the night.

* * *

**A/N: A big thank to my amazing friend who wrote this chapter.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

{Bari, Italy}

Princess Diana's blue eyes looked outward at the distant merchant ships sailing off into the rising horizon. She breathed the fresh scent of sea salt as the sound of the rolling waves crashed beneath her boots. It had been a long journey since she last looked at the darken groves of the forests, since she defeated the cursed feline woman in the moonlight. Since then, she and Helena had journeyed west to set sail to a distant continent.

She wore new traveling attire for the journey; a dark purple dress - slit up the front and back, black laced up long sleeves – tightly fitted, a black leather waist belt, and a hood to complete the outfit which she currently wore down despite the faint trickle of rain descending upon her.

She fluttered her lashes and captured a stilled memory inside her thoughts...the air felt like home. She closed her eyes tightly; images of her mother and her beloved sisters entered the walls of her unsettled mind. She remembered those moments that she cherished deeply with her mother...the moments that were worth fighting for every time she lifted up the sword and fought for weak and innocent. She took a deep intake of breath and recollected her past.

{Flashback}

_Young Diana exhaled another breath from her powerful lungs and closed her fixated eyes as she allowed the forces of nature to guide her into the shallow water._

_ She breathed silently, talking off her sandals and advancing into the warm waters as the sensation of harmony flowed through her veins. Dressed in a silk ceremonial gown, she marched further into the shallow end. Feeling the icky mussy sand behind her toes, she let the wind glide her long thick hair off the silk of her skin._

_ There was no comparison to the feeling she endured as her waist felt the water soaking through her gown. Her ruby lips formed a jovial smile as she fell into the water, floating lightly on her back wishing the current could take her away to the unknown._

_ Her eyes fluttered open as she gazed at the flickers of lightening streaming across the sky; not realizing that piercing steel blue eyes were directly staring her down from the shore. The hues of storm cloud grey and intense midnight blue belonged to the Queen of Themyscira - an immortal Amazon of virtue, truth and justice. Her stern face formed with a strict posture as she looked out at her young daughter gingerly floating on her back towards the rocky shafts._

_ "Diana," Her powerful voice blared, rattling the young princess's bones._

_ Diana gasped with wide eyes and sunk deeper into the salty water, pretending to be innocent despite her current situation. She swam slowly towards her mother while swallowing a tight knot that was lodged into the depths of her throat. She looked befuddled to see her mother standing on the shore with a sharp look of disappointment._

_ "Mother..." Diana muttered under her breath._

_ Queen Hippoyla always felt troubled looking at her young adult of a daughter. Her heart was heavy with uneasiness that Diana wanted to venture out into the forbidden world of mortals. She knew that her daughter was capable of surviving the trials of adventure, and wise to understand the choices that she would make as the years would come to pass; but still she had so much to teach her._

_ "What am I going to do with you, my little sun and stars?" The Queen thought. "Has time betrayed both of us? Will Diana's fate be her own? Sometimes I wonder if I am worthy to be called a mother... Hera."_

_ The voice of the goddess echoed inside her heart like a whispering wind._

_ "My dear servant, I've seen you raise Diana from an infant to a young woman. You have not failed your own heart. Diana is young and has much to learn...It must be her time to discover the destiny that the Fates have planned for her. All you can do is guide her on the path."_

_ Diana lifted her body off the sand and straightened herself._

_ "Mother," the young Amazon addressed. "Forgive me, mother, for venturing out into the water. I needed some time..." She searched inside her clever mind. "To converse with the gods." Her top teeth nipped her bottom lip. _

_ The Queen shook her head and looked deeply into her young daughter's eyes._

_ "I warned you about leaving the palace grounds, Diana. You refuse to listen to my words. Your stubbornness is a weakness that you cannot hold within that body of yours. You're the princess of the Amazons, not some comer of mortal men. I expect you to act more-"_

_ "What mother?" Diana snapped. "To act more like you? Gods." She cursed._

_ Hippolyta's eyes became three shades darker. "Don't use the gods for your excuses my daughter. I left instructions for you to watch over Donna. But you even disobeyed that law I enforce. What is worse is that you came to the shores alone without any protection from my guard."_

_ The young princess shook her head. "There are no dangers here, mother. I am capable of defending myself. I am strong and mighty, like you mother."_

_ "Strong but not wise. As a future queen you must be ready to make the choices that will measure the outcome of your Queendom. You must stay focused on goals of preserving the balance in this land, not letting your thoughts drift into a dream world that means nothing to your duties as my heir to the throne."_

_ The young hot-blooded princess folded her arms protectively over her chest. "What if I do not wish to take your place as a future Queen, mother? I wish to be a great warrior for the gods. To defend the weak with my blade and sheer strength, not sit on the ivory throne as the days pass and my mind becomes infused with past regrets."_

_ "How dare you speak in this tone with me, daughter." Hippolyta growled. "You will be confined to your bedchambers until dawn."_

_ "Mother..." Diana groaned. "Please, I did not mean to speak those words to you."_

_ The queen raised her head. "That is enough, Diana. Now return to the palace and I will speak to you then."_

_ Diana's cerulean blue eyes became inflamed with anger. "Fine, mother." She bolted up the stone steps then turned around. "Sometimes I wish that I was never a princess." She yelled as Hippolyta felt a sting in her heart. "I wish that, mother."_

_ The queen shifted her intense gaze out at the flickers of lightning in the distance. "Be careful what you wish for, my daughter. For it might come to pass."_

_ Hours later, as the dimming shafts of sunlight vanished into the obscure shadows of the night, a sword became lodged into a bedpost. Diana clenched her jaw, showing a wrathful glare as her eyes burned with a sheer animosity of being confined to her bed chambers. Her mind was hardened with conflicting thoughts that this was a scheme of her mother to protect her from the outside world. Her hand pulled the blade from the wooden post and she threw the sword onto the silk of her bed. She dove into the covers and screamed at the top of lungs, not realizing that her mother was standing in the doorway._

_ Hippoltya entered the bedchambers of her eldest daughter. Her steel- blue eyes scanned the bedpost revealing her daughter's inward rage. "Diana, you must understand that I am only doing this to protect you." She offered, looking concerned from her daughter's emotional outburst. "You do know why you cannot venture out to the shores alone."_

_ Diana lifted her head from the drenched covers and gave her mother a heated gaze. "The rogue Amazons have been exiled from this island for years, mother. They are no longer a threat to me. I have become a fierce warrior and if the Circle should ever try to cross me, they will taste my blade." She confessed. "I do not fear their serpent flesh, mother. I fear nothing."_

_"Then you are a foolish child to believe that, Diana." Hippolyta answered. "As warriors, we fear many things... not our own will but those that we cherish. Showing no fear does not make you strong, nor does it make you weak. It gives us courage as our hands firmly grasp the hilts of our blades, and we charge into the battleground knowing the outcome. You must embrace your worse fears and allow them to be molded into the weapons of warfare."_

_Diana arose from her bed and moved to the window. "I sense that the omens will not be kind to us, mother. Storms are brewing in the distance. The stench of bloodshed is filling the air. I know that my destiny is to protect our sisters once the swords clash on the white shores, once the moon is crimson red."_

_ "Do these omens trouble your spirit knowing that our world is not going to be the only affected, my daughter?"_

_ "The immortal world of which we dwell will not be the only battlefield being drawn in the shadows of Hades, mother." She rested her arms on the ledge of the window. "Did you ever escape to the mortal world? Go beyond the realm of the invisible shield and seek a better understanding of mortality?"_

_ Hippolyta narrowed her sullen eyes. "I've seen the outcome of man's decisions. That world that you wish to discover is full of impure souls that crave for their own savage gratification. There is no justice in those lands - only corruption, decay and sin." She admonished. "They forge weapons to kill their own kind. Innocent lives become victims of bloodshed. Mankind will have to face those battles alone."_

_ Diana straightened her posture. "How can you say that, mother?" she growled. "I thought we we're blessed with the gift of immortality to defend many lives."_

_ "Our lives. Nothing else." Hippolyta bellowed. "Sometimes I question your judgment towards your actions. You were molded by my hands to be the champion of the gods that would defend our homeland. Not a drifter seeking answers to childish dreams that have no meaning to our world. I assure you, my daughter, that you will not find nightmares as you walk that path."_

_ Diana lowered her eyes, feeling ambivalent. "Than what is my path, mother?" she asked gesturing her hands to the queen. "You speak falsehoods that your judgment towards the unknown conceive the truth that mankind are the cursed and that we are the pure ones. The society that forms a straight line into the dark and white world that we only transfigure in our minds."_

_ "Diana, this is your home. This is where you belong."_

_ She shook her head in dismissal._

_ "No mother. The Fates will not be kind to us, for I sense that there will a division formed between us. You want me to follow in your footsteps and rule our Amazon sisters, but I cannot allow my heart to lock itself into a delusion that there is no better life out there beyond our kingdom." She looked deeply into her mother's eyes. "I seek conquest . I will not accept that the mortal world, that you have bestowed curses upon, is an unjust place until I see it through my own eyes."_

_ "The wisdom of Athena flows deep into her veins," Hippolyta said in a disheartened tone. "As my daughter, I cannot allow you to wander among the mortals and be seen as an outsider. Your dreams will stay as they are." she paused. "You are still a child and not yet ready to face the hardships and endure the fate that Hades will bestow upon those that you will cherish deeply."_

_ Diana swallowed and gulped down. "No mother. I am not a child anymore. I wish to see the mortal world. I wish for the freedom that my soul craves from these palace walls. I want to see the world past our white shores."_

_ Hippolyta looked crossed. "Diana, you are the Princess of the Amazons, the heir to the throne that guards the hopes and dreams of her people. It is your duty to remain here and protect its interests for that is your future." She walked over and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "I know the truth that lies in your heart my little sun and stars...You are meant to do great things, conquer new battles...and discover forms of love through the journey the gods have forged for you."_

_ She stroked her daughter's raven hair."Remember this, my daughter: the blood that flows in your veins is the blood that we both share..."_

Diana flicked her eyes open. She unlaced and pulled down the sleeve of her garment and looked at the silver bracelet around her wrist; a symbol of her sisters and the Queendom she was destined to rule with the wisdom of the gods and the strength of her fellow sisters in arms.

"I will see you again, mother," she promised.

* * *

Lady Selina entered the boarding room of the two story dwelling, hands grasping her collection of spoils she earned from her nightly roams in enticing men with her seductive facade. She walked towards the bed as the soft shimmers of moonlight reflected into the crisp blankets. She sensed a stranger's presence in the air, something believable and daring. She gingerly cantered to the window and placed her hand on her dagger then surveyed the dead space.

She released a breath of relief.

There was no one. No lurking wraith, just a bed and a dusty vanity. She felt a chill rattled through her bones. Gritting her teeth, she turned around and drew out her dagger, pointing it into the air. Her brown eyes captured the torch glows in the hall as a tall shadow emerged. She stepped a few inches back, fingers gripping the handle.

"My mother always told that it is not polite for a maiden to point her sidearm at a stranger." A rich tone bellowed from the darkness. Selina tightened her jaw and held the dagger still aimed.

"Funny. My mother always told it would be stupid not to. Especially when they drop in uninvited."

A grim chuckle came from the stranger's throat as he stepped into the light. "Cannot argue with that."

Selina slowly relaxed as she watched the stranger raise his hands to show he was unarmed.

"You are right fair stranger." She smirked, sliding the dagger back into its sheath… "Daggers are not very efficient weapons for a maiden to use," She said drawing out of her sword from a leather frog at the cloaked aggressor. "This is a much more elegant weapon for a woman of my tastes to wield."

"I will not fight you my lady," He said advancing closer. "My reason to have entered your dwelling is an old asperser of my past has set his gaze upon you and your companion."

He moved closer as she peered at his concealed features surrounded by the black cloth of his hooded cloak.

"You and your companion were in fray with him a few miles from this village a short while ago... He poses rank of knighthood in the kingdom of Gotham. In truth, he is less noble than most of the commoners that share a drink in the tavern."

Selina's grip tightened as she aimed her blade at his chest. His stance and posture didn't change, clearly is he felt no fear in the face of her fiery gaze as he stood motionless. Or he just disguised it well enough?

"Stay back. I am warning you."

"My lady, you are not going to stick me with that blade," he said calmly. "We both know that."

Selina caught a glimpse of his warm brown-hazel eyes as he stepped into a stream of moonlight. "Why have you entered my dwelling?" she asked, not lowering sword as he stared into her beautiful features caressed by the blue moonlight. "How do I not know that you speak falsehoods of the man that attacked my friend and me on the road?"

He shook his head. "I assure you my lady... my lips speak the truth. The Gotham Knight that you encountered is named Gallo. He is a devil to any fair maiden, and right now he seeks to destroy you…"

"I appreciate the warning …But I know how to take care of my own life. My friend would say the same."

"I did not come here to play games with you." He spoke with a hint of annoyance. "I came to warn you that Gallo has marked you as his prey. He will hunt you down my lady."

Selina rolled her eyes. "I have faced dangerous men before," she said sauntering towards him.

They stood in silence for a moment; thousands of questions filling the space between them as they prepared their words to break the dense air.

"So," Lady Selina finally said, her eyes giving the stranger a slow once-over. "You're a stalker that has been trailing me?"

"I had no intention of following you, my lady," he said softly. "But I have reason to believe Gallo is working with dark forces that will gut and bleed the good people of this kingdom."

Selina smiled. "Gallo is one of many problems with this kingdom. He also works with a fool of a knight named Flass." She clasped her lips. "Gallo spoke of an influence that he represents. He told my friend and me that if we joined forces we would receive rewards; wealth and power would be gained."

The stranger shook his head as he spoke.

"The influence that you speak of is an ancient darkness. The fate of this fair kingdom will be grim if men and women that followed in the footsteps of King Thomas Wayne fell into the twisted lies of this serpent in human flesh."

"Why tell me this? Why the hell should I care what he does?" Selina exasperated.

"Because only you can help me… and because you are the allure Gallo now follows."

Selina lowered her sword. "The creature you spoke of slew the King and Queen decades ago and is rumored to be the one that has stalked Prince Wayne ever since…I do not know if you are speaking the truth, fair stranger... But I follow my instincts and they say that you are hiding something."

"We both know that you are a maiden of stealth and shadow," he said, stepping closer. "Dark times have come upon this good land. The people of Gotham do not have options left to grasp as the thief in the night will blanket this earth with poison and death. Everything that you fought for will be nothing... just shadow."

She took a deep breath and said. "This kingdom of ruin is already in shadow. Pitch black."

He shook his head. "I heard rumors of Prince Wayne, he may still be alive."

"Do not burst your luck." Selina seethed. "The Prince may still be alive, but would have run far from here. He won't be coming back." She snarled hanging her head. "I will journey out of this forsaken land. If I don't save my own skin, they will they hunt me down and kill me."

Anger and suspicion flashed over Selina's cream features. Her lips curled as she slashed her blade in front of his face. He was quick to react and deflected the blade with his gauntlet. She clenched her jaw as she forcefully pressed the sword closer to his chest.

"How do I not know that you are a servant to Gallo's plot?" she growled. "Bait to lead me out into the open…"

"My lady, lower your blade," he spoke in a light tone. "I will not cause a fray with you this night."

"Give me one good reason why my blade should not cut your family jewels off?"

He paused and lowered his 23-inch sword and placed it back into his leather sheath. "If there was any reason, it would be that I think your beauty is bewitching. I will not harm such a lovely maiden... he grabbed her wrist and disarmed her as the sword dropped to the floor.

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry... I'm just not that kind of maiden." She kneed him in the groin. She watched him wince and then she threw a quick fist into his jaw, knocking him to his knees. "I'm a devil." she spoke, glaring down at him before bolting out of the room. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the ground.

He pinned her down with his hands grasping her wrists, his chest shrouding over her slender frame.

"Get off me!" she seethed, connecting her knee to his groin again then landing a kick to his stomach, sending him skidding across the floor. She regained her footing and looked over at her down opponent. "That will teach you to never underestimate the power of a woman."

The cloaked stranger glared at her with blazing eyes, sending a chill running down her spine. She quickly reached for her sword and raised it to the strike.

"Stand back or I will make you cripple."

He shook his head and lunged at her, making both of them crash into the wall. Chests were heaving with heavy breaths. He knocked the sword out of her hand and held her hand as she tried to swipe his face.

"A fierce maiden is what you are my lady." He spoke with a tiny hint of an accent.

Selina grinned with pride and yanked his hood. "It's midnight, darling. Time to unmask." she pulled the hood off and stared into the broiling chasms of pure hazel.

Her eyes studied his youthful features- highly defined with a well- structured face, and windswept shaggy light brown hair. Long bangs covered his eyes as he stared into her brown eyes and flashed a libidinous smile.

Selina licked her lips as she beheld the 6'2 inch admirable man pressing against her body.

"What's your name?" he asked in a chivalrous voice as his warm breath entered every fiber of her body. His gazed softened.

"Why should I tell you?" she demanded.

His eyes grew mischievous. "You did try to kill me, my lady."

Selina smiled and parted her lips. "First of all please do not call me "my lady", and second my name is Selina."

"Selina." He savored her name on his soft lips. She found it amusing the way he spoke in his English accent. He didn't pull way. "I'm Bastian." he replied. With one swift movement he claimed her lips in a hard, unnerving kiss while her hands grabbed his thick strands pulling him closer as he devoured her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around him. "Pleasure to meet you, Bastian," she said with a small smirk. "New to this kingdom?"

"Indeed."

He crashed his lips over her mouth once again and muttered between the pacing. " I do not like fast maidens."

Selina allowed her lips to move to his chiseled cheek. "And I hate arrogant and senseless men." She hissed, feeling his lips kiss the side of her face and move down her neck. "As for fast maidens…You will love this one." She cursed under her breath as irony slipped into her thoughts. He was an intruder, he broke into her territory. But he was handsome and daring.

Bastian felt her fierce grip on his shoulders and smirked. "I think I will not have a problem settling in." He was ready to assault her lips once more.

Selina smiled and ran a finger down his lips. "Careful with what you wish for, handsome, my friend is a mage. One false movement of entering into unknown territory and I can get her to change you into anything my heart desires."

"Well then, I will have to be extra careful around you, Lady Selina," His lips played a smile.

"I am a dangerous woman, Bastian." she warned.

He stroked her darken ringlet hair. "Maybe I like danger, my lady."


End file.
